Grinds my gears

Champagne.

Champagne is expensive.

It tastes like fizzy tramp piss. I imagine. I mean I know what champagne tastes like but I've never asked a tramp to urinate for me and then taken the trouble to carbonate it in a soda stream.

It gives you a strange, evil hangover.

It is usually only drunk by people who make me nauseous before I empty the glass.

I am running out of reasons to slag it off.... er the cork.... might go in ya eye - health and saftey?....

Its the summer and you attend a friend of a friend's garden party. The sun is out. You already feel a little uneasy as most guests have turned up in big 4x4s planning to drive home later. Many of the guests are young people who have taken a shine to Jack Wills clothing. Boys in pink shirts bellow their blonde sticking up hairdos. The girls are in baggy, thin tracksuit bottoms (that have never seen a track). Standard footware is flip flops. Everyone is drinking free Champagne. Lots of it.

There is an outdoor swimming pool. More Libation. The strange effects of champagne takes over. The conversation is so purile that it makes the Daily Mail seem informative. Everything is so great becase.... er... well look at us; we're drinking champagne. They've got a pool too! I don't mind missing the O.C. afterall because this is great.

At this point Drunk Girl is making her way past the pool to refill the glasses of the guests at the bottom of the garden. She is thinking to herself "Strange nobody remembered their swimming costumes. I mean, everyone knows I have a pool!"

Her flip flops have been chosen to complement her Jack Wills tracksuit bottoms. Fashion over function. She slips a little too near the edge of the pool. At the deep end. She falls but her reactions are impaired and hits her head. Badly. There is blood on the concrete at the side of the pool. There is blood seeping from a head wound, diffusing into the chlorinated water. She's unconscious and face down. A state of affairs that should not be maintained for a long period of time. A red halo starts to grow about her head.

Drunk Boy is loudly boasting about the size of the engine in his shiny new 4x4. He is planning to offer to take Drunk Girl skiing in it in the hope that she will have sex with him. He will then retract his skiing offer and boast about having had sex with Drunk Girl. And about the size of his engine.

Drunk Boy raises his sun glasses. Is that red in the pool? Its hard to tell with these custom red lenses in.

"Fuck".

He fishes her out. Shes twitching, still bleeding. "Are you ok?" No response. Through his champagne euphoria he panicks with fear. He remebers basic CPR. This is attempted. She stops twitching.

Many people had gathered round by the time the local GP pronounced Drunk Girl officially expired.

A mighty shame. Those white Jack Wills trousers will be tough to clean. The pool water should really be replaced now. Which is a hassle. And strangely nobody seems in the mood to finish off the opened champagne.

Disclaimer: If you don't like this story because you feel "its a bit nasty" then sit in Oxford Brookes University cafeteria over lunch. I just have. I'm not in a charitable frame of mind.