h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Having been sick on the forecourt of said stadium I can testify that whilst it may not be an alien spaceship, it may be a device of some purpose other than the playing of football, due to the strange human behaviour and bizzarre wind and weather effects that I have seen there. Possibly a transmitter for Coronation Street, which as we all know has an audience of 4.32 billion in the Centaurus system.

Ok, now I'm a) slightly impressed that anyone ever read what I wrote and b) slightly intrigued as to why you were sick on the forecourt of Reebok. Which forecourt? Are we heading out towards Asda or Old Orleans (or in fact the motorway)?

I went to a dinner dance there once. The inside is even more bizarre than the out, and strangely tardis like....

The tale is thus:-

It was the Christmas do fo an un-named company and I made the fatal mistake of retiring to the gerrard arms in Aspull for a warm-up session before the do. It was also the day before my brithday, and certain individuals were out to get me roaring drunk (I was out to try and seduce the lass who designed the company adverts, but as you will discover, I was foiled!).

Anyway, we got to the reebok, and the first half hour was free booze time. Consequently I loaded up with whisky and bottles of Newcastle brown to drink as the evening progressed. Anyway, I got to the table, and polished off the booze, and then proceeded to down glasses of wine, keeping pace with the main architect of my downfall who was downing wine-galsses fulle of beer. After the meal (well, what I remember of it), it was the disco.

But, I was gone already, and I fell asleep, slumped on a table. One individual sought to pile cig packets and ashtrays on my head, and on this, my boss (and his boss) decided I was best back at the hotel. So, they carried me thus, or rather dragged me thus to the forecourt (on the motorway side) and waited one of them (my boss's boss) to bring his car. At that moment, my stomach gave up the battle and went into spew mode. Now, it was a windy night, very windy indeed, and the wind blew at that very moment in such a way that not only I, but my boss were covered in it.Oh dear. I eventually got to the hotel, and was slung unceremoniously on my bed by various factions of the management.

The net result the following morning, was a hangover, a dry-cleaning bill (off the boss) and immediate guaranteed legendary status, and a vow not to do it again!