The Office Christmas, er, "Party"

Last night's Office Christmas Party reminded me exactly why after last year's party I said I wouldn't go to another one. Unfortunately in the intervening 12 months I softened and allowed myself to be talked into going. That won't be happening again.

The reasons:

1. Drunk 20-year old straight guys talking about "flange" did not help me eat my starter, which was paté, which I abhor. Now, I'm no prude, but not in a posh restaurant over dinner guys, please!

2. A girl shouting "Oi! Garcon! Over here, NOW!" I consider to be rude behaviour, especially as she's one of the team leaders where we work. You know what they say about people who are rude to waiters. People who are rude to waiters who haven't done anything wrong deserve utmost contempt in my book.

3. A guy repeatedly standing up and shouting "I want my fucking dessert, and I'd better get it fucking soon you c**ts!" (I kid you not. In a very well-to-do restaurant!). Again, I don't count this as particularly decent behaviour. I think we'd all agree on that.

4. The girl sitting next to me - who just has a new boss; me! - vomited everywhere because she'd managed to drink, in the space of under 2 hours, at least 2 bottles of red wine (because it was free). This didn't make my dessert any more appetising.

5. The girl behind me really needed to keep her voice down when she was talking about which married man's cock she'd managed to fiddle with recently in the office.

These are all people who work within 20 feet of my desk and who I deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Maybe I'm getting old, but it wasn't my idea of a good night out. I don't understand people who feel the need to be abusive, and I don't understand people who feel the need to drink as much as possible in the shortest possible time, just because the booze is free. Don't get me wrong, I'm not getting all high-and-mighty, and I like to get squiffy as much as the next guy, but there are times and places for such behaviour.

So anyway, I left straight after the dessert course, jumped on the tube, and went home to The Boyf, where we cuddled up on the sofa and watched TV together. All's well that ends well.

Please remind me in 12 months not to go to next year's "do".