It’s been a nerve-shattering start to an office Christmas party today as colleagues begin guessing and probing each other to discover who has a bag of white Christmas.
One staffer said he was living on an edge harder than anything Aerosmith ever sang about.
“I had to have about 70 or so schoons of port before the event even started to sand down the corners a bit,” he said. “I started with joking-yet-deadly-serious quips about whose nose was thirsty, but I ended up just straight out asking ‘do you have some cocaine for me to smell with my nose?’.”
Staffers who came packing bagged heat said the tension was even worse for them.
“About 12 people followed every time I went to the bathroom attempting to get a nose bite,” one man said. “It was like when the fish are on, and you have to hide behind a rock to bait your hook.”
Management of the company said it would try to avoid the tension next year by bumping the Kris Kringle limit to $300 and hoping everyone gets the idea of what to buy each other.
Channel Seven will bring Huey back to our screens this month as he explores Australia’s festival, pub, club and dodgy mate’s lounge room scene devouring jaw watering amounts of drugs.
“The only thing I’ll be cooking on my new program is myself,” Huey confirmed. “People thought I was on the nose clams anyway thanks to my colourful clothing and suspenders, but truth be told I never did anything harder than Perkins Paste.”
Huey promises to knock back all sorts of gurning gourmet on his family-friendly adventures, from the everyday pinger to the exotic flesh-eating krokodil.
“The man has an amazing work ethic,” one of the show’s producers said. “He didn’t sleep at all during the entire filming process.”
The first episode, in which Huey attends a glass barbeque with some true-blue Aussie larrikins, will air this Sunday.
Ropeable school leavers have demanded refunds after discovering Club Med is not a live-in nightclub offering prescription medications like Valium, oxycodone and methadone.
“I didn’t come here to drink cocktails, I came here to swallow them,” one angry school leaver said. “I’ve been in touch with my dad’s lawyer and he thinks we have a strong case against the resort for false advertising.”
A Club Med spokesperson said the company “understood the confusion”, especially given the dazed state many of its middle-aged visitors with young children exhibit, and invited the teens to stay and get a glimpse of where their lives were heading before deciding if they still wanted to celebrate leaving school.