Nine ways drunk people are so unbelievably annoying: KATE SPICER

The first thing I noticed when I sobered up was the sheer number of red wine stains in my wardrobe.

You see, a room full of drunk people shouting and lurching about used to be my idea of fun.

And I’d have my idea of fun several times a week with a wide circle of friends who all enjoyed that kind of fun too.

My goodness I must have been annoying because since cutting back on the amount I drink, being in the company of drunken people has become so excruciating, it’s close to unbearable.

I will always step in to triage a drunken teenager who has yet to work out how to handle the demon drink, but I’m done with wine stains on my clothes and propping up adults.

Not long after I stopped drinking, I asked the veteran New York bartender, Dale deGroff, how he managed drunk people.

Dale said he issued an ‘instant 86’ (US slang for throwing a punter out) for any of these three: public urination, brandishing a weapon and being threatening to women.

Then he said: ’Mostly, as a bartender, peer pressure is your best friend. When someone’s being a jerk then everyone knows they’re being a jerk and their friends will take care of it.’

And that’s the big problem for those of us who are now sober. The obscenely drunk person becomes your problem.

I’ve spent too many nights of my precious short life steering drunk friends with terrible red wine teeth away from trouble and towards their beds.

As they wheel around, bellowing and spilling things, I just want to say: ‘Hun, that’s not fun. It’s alcohol poisoning.’

I’m not a puritan. It takes one to know one, and as I said, I was once that person. But although it’s none of my business what a person chooses to do to their liver, I’ve had enough.

It’s one thing to be merry, quite another to be a pitiful adult tippling to toppling point.

So before you bellow your problems into my ear with a shower of beery spittle, take a moment to check you aren’t doing any of the following and if you are, do the rest of us a favour and take yourself home...

STAGE ONE: sculling drinks 

I had a friend who used to boast - boast! - she went from 0-60 in one drink, probably because that one drink was a massive vodka on the rocks. Going hard on the first drink ensures sobriety leaves the building pronto. While you may still be charming and witty, I guarantee toes will be curling in shoes all around you. Because while everyone else is easing themselves into the evening, the gulpers are well on their way within a few minutes of their first ‘Cheers!’.

STAGE TWO: the lean in  

The conversation might start like a game of ping pong. You say one thing, they say another. But before long it’s a game of squash with only one racket. Anything you say is interrupted and hijacked. If they lean in to talk, their voice is so loud it dislodges wax deep in your ear canal. Saying, ‘Please don’t shout,’ will reap accusations that you are boring, or, even louder shouts of, ‘I’m not shouting.’ From now on, arguments about politics and/or any global conflicts must be avoided at all costs. Save your thoughts for more sober events, like BBC Question Time.

STAGE THREE: paranoia

By now, the themes the drunk will be returning to over and over are established. It will be either a boast that requires endless affirmation, ‘Yes, you are looking hot for your age; no, I can’t tell your dress is second hand; yes, you’re brilliant at your job and didn’t deserve to get sacked’. Or an insecurity or life problem will have set in which they are utterly incapable of processing sober, let alone drunk.

Your solutions, no matter how Oprah-grade amazing, will not stop the subject going in ever decreasing circles of thought, ‘I can’t believe she said that to me!’ It will become so frustrating, you may ask them to stop (ill-advised, see stage 6). You’re better off suggesting ludicrous solutions like, ‘I agree, let’s go to your boss’s house and throw dog poo at the windows.’

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STAGE FOUR: the clowny wine smile

By now, the teeth are stained burgundy and the corners of lips are upturned by a thin clowny wine smile drawn by the glass pressed so repeatedly and keenly to the mouth. Elsewhere stains on clothing, glazed-over eyes and general oily sweaty dishevelment is setting in, not least because the wild gesticulating will send the odd glass of red flying off the table and all over the nearest person wearing white.

STAGE FIVE: animal noise

The constant shouting will now sound less like words to sober ears and more of an animalistic pitch, which, depending on the person, could be bellowing like a bull seal, shrieking like a fox, cackling like a hyena or braying like a donkey.

Some men will actually try and make animal sounds - chimps and dogs are a favourite. But mostly it’s just that what they’re saying is so uninteresting all that comes through is the noise. They may also be laughing a lot, but what they’re laughing at won’t be funny. Usually one of their friends with a napkin on their heads.

STAGE SIX: the lecherous lean in

Repetition is constant now and the emotions are breaking down in the intoxicated chaos of the alcohol-soaked brain. If you upset them they will follow you around all night saying, ‘You upset me’.

I made the mistake of giving a very drunk German lingerie model a lift home once and she thanked me by saying, gravely, ‘You are a very ugly woman.’ It’s around this time drunken letches start pawing and breathing their rancid fumes saying they feel ‘horny’ and ‘I’ve always found you very attractive’. This is now, legally, harassment, so women, you don’t need to put up with it any more.

STAGE SEVEN: emotional mess

This is the point when people go into full meltdown. They may confront you about something you’ve wiped from your memory. A slight perhaps related to their earlier drunken behaviour and your desperate attempts to escape from it. With any luck they’re just crying and catastrophising because verbal violence and full-on drunk fighting is terrifying.

Half of all manslaughter cases involve drink and when you see two men who were two stages ago barking happily together like chimpanzees suddenly attempting to rip each other’s heads off, having to comfort a weeper feels like a relative luxury.

STAGE EIGHT: physical mess

The brain to limbs are very muddled now. It’s likely any attempt at dancing could take out 20 people. It’s time for stumbling into huge buffets laid out on trestle tables, dancing into a waiter carrying a tray full of glasses or falling off the stage they just leapt on and breaking an arm. (Guess which sober muggins gets to drive them to A&E).

At the very least, someone will go to sit on a chair that isn’t there and badly bruise their bottom. This may well be a signal it’s time to go home, finally, but then the rigmarole of losing essential items like bags, keys, wallet, coat, phone or pints of blood kicks in. This will lead to weeping, raging, rubbishy attempts at walking home or most likely the next sign of drunkenness…

STAGE NINE: dead alligator slumber

Think of those sad characters in suits slumped like a dead alligator in shop doorways after the need to sleep overtook their drunken path to the last train home. I once found a guy asleep on the street wearing just a thin jacket in -20°, in Vladivostok, far east Russia. Running inside to my hotel, thinking he was dead, the concierge shrugged and just said, ‘Vodka’.