You get phone calls along the lines of (remembering I’m at work):

MATE: Hey Ham, do you think you could drive R home, she’s getting a bit lose
me (worried): Lose, what do you mean lose? Is she ok? Where are you?
MATE: Yeah, she’s fine, just a little ‘Lose’. Were down at the Town Hall (hotel)
me: huh? What’s going on?
MATE: “Here, I’ll put R on”
R: Hey Ham, are you coming down the pub or what?
me: “R, I’m at work”
R: “Look, I’m sick of this shit and I’m sick of your fucking work. Come down here now”
me: “How about in an hour or so time?”
R: “Fuck! Look! Come down here now and sink some piss!”
me: “I’ll be there in an hour”

*hangs up*

Two mins later I get a message: “If I have another beer, do you reckon you could drive my car home?”

Like I ever had a choice.