Lies alcohol has told you

Alcohol. The devil's poison. Since time began, man has craved it, yearned it, and above all, fermented it. Within its liquid interior lurks a monster so vile and repulsive, it is indescribable by current methods. When you place the bottle to your lips and take that fatal sip, the monster comes to dwell inside of you, to the darkest depths of your very soul. Sometimes you will hear it telling you things. Horrible things. Lies, my friends. Many good people have been subject to the vicious falsifications of alcohol as it stagnates inside their digestive system. Herein lie some examples, but be warned: the truth may best be left unknown.

LIE: You are a good dancer.
TRUTH: You are an awful dancer. Other people are laughing at your flailing limbs as you try to keep to the rhythm with all the desperation of a drowning squirrel. You are knocking other's drinks out of their hands and beginning to attract the attention of the security team.

LIE: You are an attractive, go-getting young charmer.
TRUTH: You are hideous. You forge a path on the dancefloor as others clamber over each other in an attempt to avoid you. You never were that attractive, and the drunken swagger, sweaty hair and misshapen face have removed all doubt in the eyes of observers.

LIE: That person is fit.
TRUTH: They're actually ugly, but not as ugly as you. You have little chance of pulling but that won't stop you trying. There are three routes to failure here: they are either gay, transgender or not as drunk as you.

LIE: You are quite witty.
TRUTH: Your normal definition of "wit" is a well-placed fart during a casual conversation. With the help of alcohol, this has now lowered a notch to the random shouting of words such as "tits!" or "bum!", or maybe even multisyllabic gems such as "nipples!" if you're feeling particularly up yourself.

LIE: You can sing like an angel.
TRUTH: The sound of a bag full of pigs being strangled with barbed wire is perhaps an apt metaphor for your singing abilities. However, alcohol insists that you must demonstate this harmonious loveliness to anyone within a 100 metre radius, and you, as alcohol's slave, must oblige.

LIE: You're not going to be sick.
TRUTH: You are going to be sick. It will happen when you least expect it. Vomit will spew forth from your mouth and drench innocent bystanders, as well as your own clothes, with a cocktail of hydrochloric acid, 5 litres of alcohol, and the half-digested remains of a donner kebab.

LIE: You're not that drunk.
TRUTH: Oh you are. Oh God you are.

Permalink || Posted 5/11/2005 by Pete

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