you and me - number three
[Gene knows that he can't take his drink since he got to Paradisa - but that doesn't stop him wanting one. Not at all, not even slightly. Waking up with Donna in Peter Carlisle's body hasn't helped much either. Even the thought that he might have accidentally touched 'it' in the night, is sending the poor man insane nearly. And that's without the bloody karting dice fiasco. In short - no alcohol is nothing but sheer torture for the man.
So this is Gene, sitting in his room with a half bottle of Famous Grouse and to hell with the consequences - if he necks it quick enough - he can down it before he passes out, and at least get some gratification from the momentary burning warmth and relief it can offer him before he's off with the fairies in la-la land.]
Up your arse Paradisa!
[he raises the bottle to the ceiling in a mock toast and chugs it back as quick as his throat will allow - which to be fair seems to be capable of bypassing the swallow reflex altogether and is therefore fairly speedy.]
Fuckin 'ell [belch] That feels goo---
[a good eight hours later and the groans as he comes to are recorded] Jesus Christ on a bike - that was one 'ell of a fuckin' dream.
So this is Gene, sitting in his room with a half bottle of Famous Grouse and to hell with the consequences - if he necks it quick enough - he can down it before he passes out, and at least get some gratification from the momentary burning warmth and relief it can offer him before he's off with the fairies in la-la land.]
Up your arse Paradisa!
[he raises the bottle to the ceiling in a mock toast and chugs it back as quick as his throat will allow - which to be fair seems to be capable of bypassing the swallow reflex altogether and is therefore fairly speedy.]
Fuckin 'ell [belch] That feels goo---
[a good eight hours later and the groans as he comes to are recorded] Jesus Christ on a bike - that was one 'ell of a fuckin' dream.