Doha November 2008.

Sensible drinking is highly recommended by governments everywhere. But they’d all be fucked without the tax from insensible drinking.

Thursday night; bizarre weekend.

It throws the lifetime of sociological habit to work Sunday to Thursday.

Tell me about the money, honey.

“Hey Swifty have you ever tried a Jägerbomb?”

Any sensible person would have moved on at this point. Yet the heat of the Doha Rugby club, coupled with a resignation of every kind, meant it was time to be stupid.

Stupid.

“No.”

Stupid.

Who on earth decided it would be a great idea to load up a pint of lager with a shot of hell-fire?

Five later…

Mind totally active, legs turned into squid assets.

Hello where has the bar gone?

Why can’t I stand up?

Taxi!

So they carried me to the aforesaid convenience; me fully compos mentis; my body fucked.

Within 5 minutes they united.

“Sorry mate I need cash for the fare.”

So he dropped me at an ATM, and despite piratical left eye covering I managed to withdraw 1000 Riyals – seemed like a good idea at the time.

I turned triumphant to find the indolent twat had driven off…

Hey Ho! Let’s go! Back to the highway to flag down a cab.

The first one was blue and white with flashing lights…

Five minutes later in the police Station; searched; questioned; belittled?

Not at all!

They were such lovely chaps!

Tea, biscuits.

“Please Mr. Peter sit down until you feel better. Then we will take you home!”

At 5 a.m. I was dropped off home.

Crashed out for hours.

When I awoke I checked my wallet – empty.

No wonder they were so happy.

Still;

They could have shoved me in pokey…

So £160 for a night’s fine was ok…