Avoid Champagne at all costs and the laughing firemen.

This post is intended to inform, give some high quality advice based upon experience.

Essentially the subject is regarding precautions you should take when staying overnight in a hotel-especially if you have been drinking.

Chanpagne is amazing stuff. The most overpriced concoction known to man. People queue up to confirm their ridiculous behaviour in paying a fortune for a glass of sparkling white wine. All I have to say if anyone can consistently identify the ‘real thing’ from a a glass of ‘Cremant’ (a quarter the price) in a blind tasting then I will buy you a crate of your preferred brew. Now before we go on I used to drink quite a lot of champers. One day one of those women in Harrods that spray you with perfume informed me that ‘every gentleman’ should have have his own perfume that others will recognise. You walk in the room and people ‘smell’ your arrival, Wiered a bit I know but I am guilty of always having a bottle of ‘Encre Noir’ on hand. Also he, this theoretical gentleman must be able to identify his ‘favourite champagne’ and at every possibility buy a bottle when in company. Announcing to guests the fact that you do in fact have a ‘favourite’ apparently confers a certain style/ je ne sais quoi- you get the drift. Well I tried all sorts but never actually found ‘my champagne’ which in some ways I regret.

Anyway the point of this post is geared to offering advice, in this case when you have drunk an awful lot of champagne. When you read this you will realise why it is I refer to the occasion as ‘the last time’ I drank champagne. I was in the City of London one evening long after I had stopped formal work having a drink with a friend -Veuve Cliquot- I seem to remember. The conversation was animated as the bubbles flowed and of course the second bottle soon appeared. Tattinger ‘non vintage’ which was for a while my named ‘favourite’. This was probably because the ‘non vintage’ label which I would explain was way better in its “finish’ than the ‘vintage version’ offered the idea that I must know something about Champagne if I chose one that had to be explained. Most actually bought this bullshit. The reason I did not fully confirm ‘my favourite status’ was in fact because it was difficult to find so I would loose any kudos I might create by being told it was not available.

Anyway. The second bottle went down and my friend announced he was off home. My phone rang. It was a good friend of mine at the time who lived in the USA and was in London for a meeting the following day. Did I fancy a glass? Well Champagne is a funny because until you go over the top ‘in terms of quantity’ your mind seems to embrace all sorts of positive opportunities. So half an hour later I was in somewhere near Buckinham Palace I seem to remember embarking on the third bottle with someone who is enthusiatic when any alchohol is involved. Down it went. I started telling my friend all sorts of things he probably did not want to know. I actually considered leaving but on returning from the Gents guess what? The fourth was open. I have no idea nor did I have any interest at all in what it was. I managed to get my share down my neck but by this time I was talking ‘joined up.’ I told my friend I loved him, well you do don’t you, and refused his kind offer to share his room. Don’t worry here folks you have not missed anything James D (my friend) and yours truly are not gay. We had on many occasions actually ‘slept together’ as in the same room and always because we had overcooked it on the alchohol stakes.

Any way some how I found my way to a small Hilton hotel and amazingly managed to book a room. I rang Liz and some how managed to convince her I was just a bit tipsy and ‘best to stay in town’. Now here is where the advice kicks in. What ever you do do not when in a condition of extreme drunkenness choose to sleep naked. If you do it could be that you awake in the night and you feel the need to have a pee. In doing so, especially as you are in a small room you just might confuse the room door for the bathroom door. You might open it thinking you are entering the bathroom let the door go and find that its strong spring closes the thing and you are standing in the corridor -naked! You will probably still be drunk but you will have the capacity to panic. You will find the pictures are screwed to the wall and the potplants are cemented to the ground. In the end you will have no alternative other than to take the lift to the lobby, cover your shame so to speak, and declare your plight. Apparently it happens often. However do be prepared for how you feel in the morning when you have to leave. ‘Awful’, courtesy of the champagne of course but reporting to the desk to pay is beyond anything, on the embarrassing scale, you can ever imagine. The night man, who gave you a spare key, is still there and the other members of the front desk team will be fully informed as to what had gone on and they will collectively smirk and look at you. The hangover panic kicks in the hands shake and sweat. Just avoid it at all costs.

Some years earlier I had been staying a t a small boutique hotel on the South Bank of the Thames. It was around 4 Am when the alarms went off. There was no smoke but in time all residents congregated in the lobby and hotel staff donned various pieces of officialdom uniform and took role calls. The lift doors pared and standing here was a man who had clearly had a ‘good night out’. He had glazed eyes and he emerged from the lift to be confronted by around 100 people. Most had pulled on day clothes and I daresay at first glance he drew comfort from the odd pair of pyjamas and a woman in a frilly night dress. The thing was he was wearing a very skimpy pair of trunks. They were a sort of cream colour and revealed that this man was no Atlas. It was very unattractive really but I found it funny and I struggled to supress my laughter. Help arrived for me in the shape of the local brigade who came charging in hoses ready and all wearing full uniform. The first man in surveyed the scene and told us all to remain calm. Unfortunately for the man concerned his eyes alighted on ‘MR Underpants’ and after a moments reflection he burst out laughing. Soon all his mates were in a state of mirth which was made worse by the poor unfortunate man’s attempt to conceal his crotch. It was just priceless.

Like me I suspect this man learned a lesson that night if subtly different from mine but aligned in many ways. He was to make a further mistake as he elected to enter the buffet style breakfast room the following morning. He was by this stage fully dressed but all fellow breakfasters recognised him instantly and rose to applaud him. He went so red and blundered around before electing to take an early exit as clearly any sort of dialogue was not an option.

So there you have it. Don’t drink champagne , very expensive and ever so dangerous, and always consider your night attire when staying in a small hotel if you have been on the sauce!!