36: Hangover Food
Title: Hangover Food
Author: Sharmie
Rating: This is 14A at least!
Summary: Drinking is really bad. Hangover food is tasty.
Author's Notes: This is why I hardly drink.
One day, everyone (and I mean everyone) went to a bar together and drank way more than was necessary. They all got horribly drunk and ended up sleeping on the floor of Matt Berry’s apartment in their british pants.
“I will never drink again,” declared Matt Berry from his bed. He was lying on top of the blankets with Leah, Paisley, Julian Barratt and John Simm. “I got so knackered I can’t remember how we got home.”
“You rode me like a pony,” mumbled Rich Fulcher from where his head was pillowed on Noel’s discarded pants. “As you can tell, I fucking crawled, Matt. My knees feel like shitty fucking death, and my head feels like there’s a tiny man shooting my brain with his tiny bullets. It fucking sucks.”
“Please stop talking,” sighed Richard Ayoade.
“Seconded,” added Sharmie. “Too early.” She fell back asleep.
“I have to get out of this bed,” said Julian Barratt. “Our bare flesh is touching. It’s disturbing.”
“We’re not nude,” said Leah, trying to sit up.
“Lay back down,” said Matt Berry. “When everyone else leaves we can have lazy hangover sex.”
“No, thanks,” said Leah, and thus was the first person to get up. Getting up: mistake. First, she woke up Russell Brand by stepping on his hand. He had been protecting Simon in the only non-sexual cuddle he had since he was fifteen, and it had been cute, but when he woke up she remembered how creepy he was and high-tailed it out of there. Next, she got into the kitchen, head throbbing, and drank six cups of water. And then she threw up in the sink.
“Euuuugggghhh,” she moaned.
This woke almost everyone else up.
“Whyyyyy am I living?” moaned Sharmie. And then fell back asleep.
“Because Jesus died for your sins,” said Simon. “Oh, I think I’m still drunk.”
“Get off my bed,” said Matt Berry to Julian, Paisley and John Simm. They sat up, but Julian Barratt quickly fell back. John ran into the bathroom. Paisley looked blearily around the room, wondering where to find her glasses.
“Seriously,” said Matt Berry, pulling on some pajama bottoms. “All of you need to put some fucking clothes on, right now. This room is way more homoerotic than is necessary.”
“I feel alright,” said Russell. “The rest of you look like shit, though. Ooh, you know what we need?”
“A shot in the head?” complained Paisley.
“Hangover food,” said Russell. “Who wants to come to the corner store to get supplies?” No one volunteered. Sharmie woke up, remembered how shitty she felt, and went back to sleep. Rich Fulcher stumbled into the kitchen.
“I could, I think,” said Dave Brown. He rose uncertainly on his feet, and then pulled pants on.
“Oh, clothes,” said Russell. He got dressed too.
“Why is everyone naked?” asked Richard Ayoade.
“WHAT?!?!” screamed Sharmie. She sat up, realized they all had underclothes on, and relaxed. “You scared the shit out of me,” she said. “I thought that meant the holes in my memory were orgy-related.”
“They were!” said Rich Fulcher from the kitchen.
“They were not,” said Noel, finally awake. “I would have remembered, and I would have been more selective.”
“Not with how knackered you were,” said Matt Berry. Russell got some semblance of dressed, tossed on his coat, and then he and Dave Brown left.
“Bring Pogos!” pleaded Sharmie out the window at them. Dave flipped her off, but grinned as he did so to show he was kidding. But he wasn’t.
Leah stumbled into the living room and began looking for her pants. She found her shirt and sweater fine, and thankfully it was one of her longer sweaters so it wasn’t horribly indecent without pants, just really, really strange. She found her pants behind the couch.
John came out of the bathroom and also began looking for clothing. Leah tried not to notice, and wandered into the kitchen to find food, of which there would be none until Russell and Dave returned from the store. Sharmie began filling every glass, bowl and flowerpot in Matt Berry’s kitchen with water to bring to everyone, since they all had horrible headaches, but nothing would be truly solved until there was food, and a damn lot of tylenol.
“I hardly ever drink,” said Paisley, drinking out of a large mixing bowl. “Whyyy did I drink so much? I have never drank bourbon before, why now?”
“And the vodka, you had a lot of that,” said Leah from across the room.
“And the gin,” said Richard Ayoade from the bedroom.
“And the cat’s urine,” said Rich Fulcher. “Oh wait, that was me.”
“I think,” said John Simm, sitting down on the couch. “We’ve been the victims of weight-tossing.”
“I feel the same weight,” said Sharmie.
“I feel a bit lighter,” said Leah, perched on the arm of the couch. “Maybe that’s lack of food.”
“I don’t mean physical weight,” sighed John, already annoyed. “I mean drinking weight. You know, lightweight, like Simon, or a heavyweight... Medium weight...”
“You mean ‘How easily drunk you are’,” said Leah. “Maybe be more clear when speaking.”
“Well, sorryyyy,” said John. “It’s just you lot didn’t give me a chance to explain the words I was using.”
“Can you two not argue right now?” asked Noel, peering into the leaking flowerpot Sharmie gave him to drink out of.
“Yeah,” said Julian. “I’d rather hear this theory as to why we all drank well past our limit.”
“Fine,” John mumbled. “I think what happened is that we all wanted to prove how masculine we are--”
“UMMM,” said Paisley. She just liked to complain, really she didn’t mind the use of the word. But sometimes it’s fun to be a dick.
“--Or strong or amazing or whatever, maybe not masculine necessarily!”
“Nice save,” said Leah.
“I thought masculine was the right word,” interjected Matt Berry. “Ladies only get drunk so they are more susceptible to our advances!” He put his hand on Leah’s shoulder. She slipped off the arm of the couch in surprise and ended up squished beside John. Matt Berry leaned against where she had been sitting. Paisley laughed at Leah’s discomfort, but none of them knew why she was laughing so it might as well have been in her mind.
“Can we move on from this embarrassingly chauvinistic moment, please?” asked Richard Ayoade quietly. They did.
“I suppose we all wanted to prove we could hold our liquor,” said John.
“We can’t,” moaned Simon, an ice pack on his head.
“I’ve got to agree,” said Julian Barratt. “We should have known where to draw the line.”
“I thought you didn’t conform to boundaries,” said Noel. “Didn’t you say something about eating boundaries? Breaking the rules?”
“That wasn’t me,” said Julian Barratt. “Besides, I’d only do that within reason. I’d hate to get carried away, like we did last night.”
“You fuckers got carried away,” said Rich. “I always drink like a fucking lonely veteran-amputee.”
“In any case,” said Leah, “We should never drink that much again. As compensation I propose nap time.”
“Yes!” said Matt Berry excitedly. “A sexy siesta for me and my lady in my boudoir.” Leah looked horrified, and knew that if he started singing she would be powerless to resist. Luckily, Russell Brand and Dave Brown burst through the front door.
“Food!” exclaimed Leah. She hoped no one noticed that it sounded like ‘Sanctuary!’
“We got so much shit,” said Dave breathlessly. “The clerk must have thought we were stocking a fallout shelter or something.”
“I think you’ll all be satisfied,” said Russell cheerfully. Sharmie peered into one of the bags.
“Why is there beer in here?” she asked. “Also, how did you buy beer from the corner store?”
“They really like us there,” said Dave. “A beer and breakfast is the best cure for me,” he added. “Tricks my body into thinking I’m still drunk.”
“Sounds horrifying. Ah, Pogos!” She held the box of cornmeal battered hot dogs over her head triumphantly and disappeared into the kitchen.
“We’ve got enough greasy unhealthy food to make your balls obese,” said Dave cheerfully. “You could have almost anything!”
“Almost,” said Russell, taking a swig of Dave’s beer and clutching a box of sugary cereal.
“Thanks for paying for all of this, guys,” said Leah absently. “Matt has a waffle maker, I think I’m going to make some.” She began fishing eggs and milk out of the bags on the floor.
“We didn’t pay for all of it, by the way,” said Dave. “We nicked ten bucks from each of you.”
“Hey!” said Noel indignantly. “I was saving that for a hair emergency!”
“What kind of emergency could you possibly have that involves your hair?” asked Julian incredulously.
“If it starts to rain,” said Noel, adjusting his hair slightly, “And I haven’t compensated for the weather, I might need some hairspray or some emergency goth juice. Those are hair necessities in an unexpected situation. If I have a hair crisis on the way home,” he added, turning on Russell and Dave, “I will make sure your hair suffers accordingly.”
“Alright, mate,” said Russell hastily, pulling mildly at his own insane hair. “No need to threaten.” Dave Brown, on the other hand, just sort of rubbed the top of his head. His hair stuck up all ways. Noel decided it had suffered enough. He went into the kitchen.
“I’m gonna make the best fucked up hangover cure ever,” said Rich Fulcher, wandering into the kitchen. Soon after, Julian added himself into the already crowded kitchen.
The others sat around, mostly silent, in Matt’s living room. Leah involved herself in a lengthly doodle battle with Paisley in order to avoid Matt’s suggestions for a naked nap.
“AUGH!” screamed Simon from the bathroom. Leah, John and Russell rushed to the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” asked Leah, searching the bathroom and Simon’s face for blood.
“My hair!” squealed Simon. “It’s... shorn!” It was. His formerly untamable head of chocolate curls had been cut, and only a sort of fluffy curly front bit remained, the rest of his head covered in normal, short brown hair.
“It’s like a tiny fohawk,” said Russell, mildly amused.
“It’s kind of adorable,” said Leah.
“I approve,” said John. “Though, I didn’t notice in the first place, so.” He shrugged.
“Thanks for the approval, but I didn’t do this on purpose. I liked my old hair.”
“I think I did that,” said Paisley, peering over Leah’s shoulder. “I seem to remember wielding scissors and touching your hair.”
“You did a pretty good job, especially considering you were drunk off your ass,” said Russell.
“Thanks,” said Paisley.
“My mum’s going to kill me,” said Simon mildly pulling on his hair.
Fifteen minutes later, Leah screamed out of the kitchen, “WAFFLES!” It aggravated everyone. But everyone else had aggravated her by all being in the kitchen while she was trying to make waffles, and Rich Fulcher burning his hand on the waffle iron and Sharmie dropping a Pogo into the batter by accident and Noel spilling toast crumbs onto the clean plates and Julian stepping on her foot twice.
Everyone wandered into the living slash dining room where Leah had piled the table full of waffles. Noel had a leaning tower of toast on one end, Julian had made a lot of fried eggs and breakfast sausages, and Sharmie had a plate full of Pogos and was cheerfully munching on one of them, adding ketchup when necessary.
Rich Fulcher came out of the kitchen holding a large glass mixing bowl full of a lot of food.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Matt Berry as he helped himself to the waffles Leah had made for him. Except, you know, that she made them for everyone. Oh well.
“It’s the best hangover cure ever made,” said Rich Fulcher in what he hoped was an awe-inspiring voice. “It’s fried potatoes, then scrambled eggs and sausages, then beans, and topped off with an inch-thick layer of cheese. Try some!” He shoved the bowl in the direction of Julian. He gave everyone a frightened look, but was more scared of Rich forcing him to eat it.
“Mmm, delicious,” he said, taking one bite.
“That’s not enough for it to work!” said Rich Fulcher. And jammed a huge spoonful into Julian’s mouth.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” cried Paisley from Matt’s bedroom. Everyone feared something supernatural, so they abandoned their food in favour of finding out what happened. Paisley looked at all of them from Matt’s computer.
“I just went to isitsaturday.net,” said Paisley.
“And that’s terrifying because...?” asked Sharmie.
“It said yes.”
“What?” asked Richard Ayoade. “I’m quite sure yesterday was Tuesday.”
“I believe that was true,” said Matt Berry.
“Uh, yeah, it was,” agreed Leah.
“Now it’s saturday,” said Paisley. “We lost three days.”
“Shit,” said Rich Fulcher. “I think I did a bad thing.” No one knew what the fuck he was talking about, but the truth was, they didn’t want to know. So they ate breakfast, and tried to piece together the past three days. They failed.
The end.
Author: Sharmie
Rating: This is 14A at least!
Summary: Drinking is really bad. Hangover food is tasty.
Author's Notes: This is why I hardly drink.
One day, everyone (and I mean everyone) went to a bar together and drank way more than was necessary. They all got horribly drunk and ended up sleeping on the floor of Matt Berry’s apartment in their british pants.
“I will never drink again,” declared Matt Berry from his bed. He was lying on top of the blankets with Leah, Paisley, Julian Barratt and John Simm. “I got so knackered I can’t remember how we got home.”
“You rode me like a pony,” mumbled Rich Fulcher from where his head was pillowed on Noel’s discarded pants. “As you can tell, I fucking crawled, Matt. My knees feel like shitty fucking death, and my head feels like there’s a tiny man shooting my brain with his tiny bullets. It fucking sucks.”
“Please stop talking,” sighed Richard Ayoade.
“Seconded,” added Sharmie. “Too early.” She fell back asleep.
“I have to get out of this bed,” said Julian Barratt. “Our bare flesh is touching. It’s disturbing.”
“We’re not nude,” said Leah, trying to sit up.
“Lay back down,” said Matt Berry. “When everyone else leaves we can have lazy hangover sex.”
“No, thanks,” said Leah, and thus was the first person to get up. Getting up: mistake. First, she woke up Russell Brand by stepping on his hand. He had been protecting Simon in the only non-sexual cuddle he had since he was fifteen, and it had been cute, but when he woke up she remembered how creepy he was and high-tailed it out of there. Next, she got into the kitchen, head throbbing, and drank six cups of water. And then she threw up in the sink.
“Euuuugggghhh,” she moaned.
This woke almost everyone else up.
“Whyyyyy am I living?” moaned Sharmie. And then fell back asleep.
“Because Jesus died for your sins,” said Simon. “Oh, I think I’m still drunk.”
“Get off my bed,” said Matt Berry to Julian, Paisley and John Simm. They sat up, but Julian Barratt quickly fell back. John ran into the bathroom. Paisley looked blearily around the room, wondering where to find her glasses.
“Seriously,” said Matt Berry, pulling on some pajama bottoms. “All of you need to put some fucking clothes on, right now. This room is way more homoerotic than is necessary.”
“I feel alright,” said Russell. “The rest of you look like shit, though. Ooh, you know what we need?”
“A shot in the head?” complained Paisley.
“Hangover food,” said Russell. “Who wants to come to the corner store to get supplies?” No one volunteered. Sharmie woke up, remembered how shitty she felt, and went back to sleep. Rich Fulcher stumbled into the kitchen.
“I could, I think,” said Dave Brown. He rose uncertainly on his feet, and then pulled pants on.
“Oh, clothes,” said Russell. He got dressed too.
“Why is everyone naked?” asked Richard Ayoade.
“WHAT?!?!” screamed Sharmie. She sat up, realized they all had underclothes on, and relaxed. “You scared the shit out of me,” she said. “I thought that meant the holes in my memory were orgy-related.”
“They were!” said Rich Fulcher from the kitchen.
“They were not,” said Noel, finally awake. “I would have remembered, and I would have been more selective.”
“Not with how knackered you were,” said Matt Berry. Russell got some semblance of dressed, tossed on his coat, and then he and Dave Brown left.
“Bring Pogos!” pleaded Sharmie out the window at them. Dave flipped her off, but grinned as he did so to show he was kidding. But he wasn’t.
Leah stumbled into the living room and began looking for her pants. She found her shirt and sweater fine, and thankfully it was one of her longer sweaters so it wasn’t horribly indecent without pants, just really, really strange. She found her pants behind the couch.
John came out of the bathroom and also began looking for clothing. Leah tried not to notice, and wandered into the kitchen to find food, of which there would be none until Russell and Dave returned from the store. Sharmie began filling every glass, bowl and flowerpot in Matt Berry’s kitchen with water to bring to everyone, since they all had horrible headaches, but nothing would be truly solved until there was food, and a damn lot of tylenol.
“I hardly ever drink,” said Paisley, drinking out of a large mixing bowl. “Whyyy did I drink so much? I have never drank bourbon before, why now?”
“And the vodka, you had a lot of that,” said Leah from across the room.
“And the gin,” said Richard Ayoade from the bedroom.
“And the cat’s urine,” said Rich Fulcher. “Oh wait, that was me.”
“I think,” said John Simm, sitting down on the couch. “We’ve been the victims of weight-tossing.”
“I feel the same weight,” said Sharmie.
“I feel a bit lighter,” said Leah, perched on the arm of the couch. “Maybe that’s lack of food.”
“I don’t mean physical weight,” sighed John, already annoyed. “I mean drinking weight. You know, lightweight, like Simon, or a heavyweight... Medium weight...”
“You mean ‘How easily drunk you are’,” said Leah. “Maybe be more clear when speaking.”
“Well, sorryyyy,” said John. “It’s just you lot didn’t give me a chance to explain the words I was using.”
“Can you two not argue right now?” asked Noel, peering into the leaking flowerpot Sharmie gave him to drink out of.
“Yeah,” said Julian. “I’d rather hear this theory as to why we all drank well past our limit.”
“Fine,” John mumbled. “I think what happened is that we all wanted to prove how masculine we are--”
“UMMM,” said Paisley. She just liked to complain, really she didn’t mind the use of the word. But sometimes it’s fun to be a dick.
“--Or strong or amazing or whatever, maybe not masculine necessarily!”
“Nice save,” said Leah.
“I thought masculine was the right word,” interjected Matt Berry. “Ladies only get drunk so they are more susceptible to our advances!” He put his hand on Leah’s shoulder. She slipped off the arm of the couch in surprise and ended up squished beside John. Matt Berry leaned against where she had been sitting. Paisley laughed at Leah’s discomfort, but none of them knew why she was laughing so it might as well have been in her mind.
“Can we move on from this embarrassingly chauvinistic moment, please?” asked Richard Ayoade quietly. They did.
“I suppose we all wanted to prove we could hold our liquor,” said John.
“We can’t,” moaned Simon, an ice pack on his head.
“I’ve got to agree,” said Julian Barratt. “We should have known where to draw the line.”
“I thought you didn’t conform to boundaries,” said Noel. “Didn’t you say something about eating boundaries? Breaking the rules?”
“That wasn’t me,” said Julian Barratt. “Besides, I’d only do that within reason. I’d hate to get carried away, like we did last night.”
“You fuckers got carried away,” said Rich. “I always drink like a fucking lonely veteran-amputee.”
“In any case,” said Leah, “We should never drink that much again. As compensation I propose nap time.”
“Yes!” said Matt Berry excitedly. “A sexy siesta for me and my lady in my boudoir.” Leah looked horrified, and knew that if he started singing she would be powerless to resist. Luckily, Russell Brand and Dave Brown burst through the front door.
“Food!” exclaimed Leah. She hoped no one noticed that it sounded like ‘Sanctuary!’
“We got so much shit,” said Dave breathlessly. “The clerk must have thought we were stocking a fallout shelter or something.”
“I think you’ll all be satisfied,” said Russell cheerfully. Sharmie peered into one of the bags.
“Why is there beer in here?” she asked. “Also, how did you buy beer from the corner store?”
“They really like us there,” said Dave. “A beer and breakfast is the best cure for me,” he added. “Tricks my body into thinking I’m still drunk.”
“Sounds horrifying. Ah, Pogos!” She held the box of cornmeal battered hot dogs over her head triumphantly and disappeared into the kitchen.
“We’ve got enough greasy unhealthy food to make your balls obese,” said Dave cheerfully. “You could have almost anything!”
“Almost,” said Russell, taking a swig of Dave’s beer and clutching a box of sugary cereal.
“Thanks for paying for all of this, guys,” said Leah absently. “Matt has a waffle maker, I think I’m going to make some.” She began fishing eggs and milk out of the bags on the floor.
“We didn’t pay for all of it, by the way,” said Dave. “We nicked ten bucks from each of you.”
“Hey!” said Noel indignantly. “I was saving that for a hair emergency!”
“What kind of emergency could you possibly have that involves your hair?” asked Julian incredulously.
“If it starts to rain,” said Noel, adjusting his hair slightly, “And I haven’t compensated for the weather, I might need some hairspray or some emergency goth juice. Those are hair necessities in an unexpected situation. If I have a hair crisis on the way home,” he added, turning on Russell and Dave, “I will make sure your hair suffers accordingly.”
“Alright, mate,” said Russell hastily, pulling mildly at his own insane hair. “No need to threaten.” Dave Brown, on the other hand, just sort of rubbed the top of his head. His hair stuck up all ways. Noel decided it had suffered enough. He went into the kitchen.
“I’m gonna make the best fucked up hangover cure ever,” said Rich Fulcher, wandering into the kitchen. Soon after, Julian added himself into the already crowded kitchen.
The others sat around, mostly silent, in Matt’s living room. Leah involved herself in a lengthly doodle battle with Paisley in order to avoid Matt’s suggestions for a naked nap.
“AUGH!” screamed Simon from the bathroom. Leah, John and Russell rushed to the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” asked Leah, searching the bathroom and Simon’s face for blood.
“My hair!” squealed Simon. “It’s... shorn!” It was. His formerly untamable head of chocolate curls had been cut, and only a sort of fluffy curly front bit remained, the rest of his head covered in normal, short brown hair.
“It’s like a tiny fohawk,” said Russell, mildly amused.
“It’s kind of adorable,” said Leah.
“I approve,” said John. “Though, I didn’t notice in the first place, so.” He shrugged.
“Thanks for the approval, but I didn’t do this on purpose. I liked my old hair.”
“I think I did that,” said Paisley, peering over Leah’s shoulder. “I seem to remember wielding scissors and touching your hair.”
“You did a pretty good job, especially considering you were drunk off your ass,” said Russell.
“Thanks,” said Paisley.
“My mum’s going to kill me,” said Simon mildly pulling on his hair.
Fifteen minutes later, Leah screamed out of the kitchen, “WAFFLES!” It aggravated everyone. But everyone else had aggravated her by all being in the kitchen while she was trying to make waffles, and Rich Fulcher burning his hand on the waffle iron and Sharmie dropping a Pogo into the batter by accident and Noel spilling toast crumbs onto the clean plates and Julian stepping on her foot twice.
Everyone wandered into the living slash dining room where Leah had piled the table full of waffles. Noel had a leaning tower of toast on one end, Julian had made a lot of fried eggs and breakfast sausages, and Sharmie had a plate full of Pogos and was cheerfully munching on one of them, adding ketchup when necessary.
Rich Fulcher came out of the kitchen holding a large glass mixing bowl full of a lot of food.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Matt Berry as he helped himself to the waffles Leah had made for him. Except, you know, that she made them for everyone. Oh well.
“It’s the best hangover cure ever made,” said Rich Fulcher in what he hoped was an awe-inspiring voice. “It’s fried potatoes, then scrambled eggs and sausages, then beans, and topped off with an inch-thick layer of cheese. Try some!” He shoved the bowl in the direction of Julian. He gave everyone a frightened look, but was more scared of Rich forcing him to eat it.
“Mmm, delicious,” he said, taking one bite.
“That’s not enough for it to work!” said Rich Fulcher. And jammed a huge spoonful into Julian’s mouth.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” cried Paisley from Matt’s bedroom. Everyone feared something supernatural, so they abandoned their food in favour of finding out what happened. Paisley looked at all of them from Matt’s computer.
“I just went to isitsaturday.net,” said Paisley.
“And that’s terrifying because...?” asked Sharmie.
“It said yes.”
“What?” asked Richard Ayoade. “I’m quite sure yesterday was Tuesday.”
“I believe that was true,” said Matt Berry.
“Uh, yeah, it was,” agreed Leah.
“Now it’s saturday,” said Paisley. “We lost three days.”
“Shit,” said Rich Fulcher. “I think I did a bad thing.” No one knew what the fuck he was talking about, but the truth was, they didn’t want to know. So they ate breakfast, and tried to piece together the past three days. They failed.
The end.