Okay, that was probably an irresponsible choice of title for the blog. I’m just trying to reel readers in with SHOCK and sensationalism. I’d sell my granny for 1000 page clicks (nb: she’s dead).
Actually, bad as it sounds, I think once upon a time I did quite enjoy drink driving. It’s not something I’m proud of. One particular incident stands out for me, waaaay back around Y2K (I’m so TREND that it hurts). I was at a party in Dewsbury, fully intending to sleep over at the hosts gaff, when a huge venomous argument erupted. I was over half a bottle of vodka into my night already, and so I don’t even remember what we argued about, but it ended with me throwing my toys out of the pram and marching out towards my little red Fiesta, 70cl Smirnoff bottle still in-hand. I slammed on my Pantera cassette (Vulgar Display Of Power for you rock fans), and squealed off into the night.