Last Updated on August 19, 2023
Originally published in Beat Motel issue 8. We used to publish lots of non-music related content. But this one is going in the music consumption section of this site because every grim story here was provided by members of punknews.co.uk
Much to our general bewilderment and abject amusement the fine users of PunkNews.co.uk continue to let us know what glorious bohemian lifestyles they lead. This issue we tackle, and possibly slip up on the subject of puke. The ‘names’ in bold are the names of the deviants that posted the message…
One of my old mates got horribly pissed one new years eve and was sick. Unfortunately he was sick when some girl he’d met had her tongue down his throat-she really wasn’t impressed.
For my mates 16th birthday his dad let him have his very small one bedroomed house for the evening while he was out. during party the booze was flowing and some genius had made some very nice but stupidly strong space cakes so they were being passed round many people exceeding what they should have had including one of my best mates who must have had 5 or 6 a few hours later they were taking effect as well as the booze. a bit later most people were passed out or dead due to strength of the cakes and the bathroom was always full of drunk people so many people lingered at the top of the stairs including my mate who at this point was feeling rather ill, he then threw up producing a waterfall of sick all the way down the stairs and flowing onto the floor, at this exact time my mates dad came back to check up on the house and was greeted with the sight of the sick. luckily he was very drunk at the time so we were able to persuade him he had merely knocked a bucket over and was cleaning it up.
the house stunk of sick for quite a while i was told.
Threw up red wine vomit all day my white top on the train.
Then had to walk through Gatwick with my vom top on.
I blame Guildford.
I Am Luke
My worst involves the game Monopoly With Shots. I don’t remember much to be honest, but apparently we all stuck our heads out of the kitchen door and chucked up outside. We woke up to find a river of congealed vomit from the back door leading to the back gate. To make it worse our veggie friend had also chucked so it was a horrible green colour with dirty yellow!
My friend gave me a bottle of 10 year old Cognac at a party i drunk alot of it, later on after lot more beer and brandy i burst into the toilet where my brother was pissing and said i’m going to be sick, I spent the next few seconds trying to quickly open a broken window, i was then sick into the bath. The next morning i was informed i spent quick a while trying to wash it down the plug hole, the exact words were “I walked in and you were playing with your sick”.
Ah! Possibly one of the proudest moments was being sick.
I was feeling really, really ill and feeling more and more sick. I was reluctant to go to the toilet as I figured that the process of getting up and moving would make it worse, and I was hoping I could just ride it out. The urge kept growing and growing though, so I realised I’d have to make a run for it. I jumped out of bed, ran for the toilet, but I was too late – the gusha was on the rise, I got to the door of the toilet when it hit and I had a bit of a crazy thought just before it came out, so I angled my head back and smacked the door open. It came out with such a force, through my nose which I’ve never had happen before – and it felt like my ears and eyes too! When it finished, I opened my eyes expecting a scene when there was nothing… not a drop of sick to be seen anywhere. So I checked the toilet and ALL the sick had gotten into the bowl, there was a few drops on the seat of the toilet which was down, but I swear to you – my projectile vomit managed to hit the bulleye of the toilet from 3 to 4 metres. The wierd thing is, is I actually intended it, otherwise why would I tilt my head back while being sick? Mental. I didn’t really believe it when it happened – I checked everywhere for sick but none had gone on the carpet. I just wish someone had been there to witness it!!!
I was taken totally by surprise and puked lying down, just managing to lift my head a bit as it happened. Luckily I had a bowl resting on my stomach and every single drop landed in there.
I was sick in an oven yesterday. I blame other people for leading me astray on Friday night…
When I was about 15, I went to a party with some friends from school and this girl I had been trying to crack onto for fucking ages…probably the first girl I ever had feelings about.I got a lift home from said girl’s mum, and ended up throwing up in her mums car.I was dropped off and the girl had to clean up my puke….needless to say nothing ever happened with that girl!
Also my girlfriend puked up all over my crotch earlier this year, while we were on an aeroplane.
I was woken up by Emma throwing up in bed a few months ago, but she was ill rather than drunk so it doesn’t count!
She was pretty mad when I shifted to the other side of the bed, rolled over and went back to sleep instead of clearing it up though.
Me and Lu once woke up and there was a perfect “cow pat” vomit pile between our heads. Both of us venomously deny doing it…
I Am Luke
Touring and out of town gigs always brings up (pardon the pun) some great puking/alcohol related stories.
When we played Burgess Hill with Zeeb? and Pissed Resistance we camped in the pubs beer garden next to a fucking great train line that was highly busy at night! On the way home our mate Jonny, who had come for the gig, was so hungover he had his head in a mug that he’d nicked from the service station most of the first half of the journey. It was only when we were back on the M25 that he perked up a bit and wanted to take a picture of us both on his phone to commemorate the brilliant gig. He wound down the window so he could get us both in the shot and then dropped his phone only to be crushed under the wheels of the 4×4 behind us!
The daft twat only wanted me to stop so he could run out and get it! Pleb.
The other one that springs to mind was when we played Lincoln and stayed in the promoters caravan afterwards! All four of us in the caravan tops and tails and when we woke up Whinney had been sick where Buzz’s feet where! This horrible Jagermeister/Jack Daniels smelling vomit was like a pile of melting snow and when Buzz woke up, he groaned and just went back to sleep.
The brilliant part was though, because we were only sleeping on top of matresses, Whinner mopped it up with an old t-shirt and just turned over the matress. It fucking stunk in there so we made our escape pronto!
I get a 30second warning before I know I’m gonna puke….not like the whole almost throwing up in your mouth warning. This is a warning where you are fine and dandy but know in T minus 30 seconds the whole heaving wretching and inevitable vomiting will happen!
So this is a while back in Brighton. In the Koba bar (exclusive members only back room by the way) There is video footage of me drunkenly lounging on a sofa before sitting bolt upright and politely excusing myself from the table, moving through maybe 30 closely packed patrons. Walking into the gents, nodding at the guy there who towels your hands after you’ve washed them and saying “I’m afraid I’m going to be sick in about 10 seconds”.
Then opening the stall door bending over….then nothing for 3…2…1..seconds and bleurgh, one go all gone!
Guy comes over and asks if I’m ok and I say “I will be. Be a good chap and fetch me my drink its at table 3”
I used to have a drinking buddy called Vic and it was practically guaranteed that every time we went out it would end in a horrible mess. One night we’d been to the Bridgehouse and got picked up and taken to a party by a couple of girls we met at a burger stall. Once there they plied us with all manner of drink and other things until we were very wobbly. Vic went outside for a breath of air and dissappeared for ages so I went to find him. He was hung over some railings just finishing being sick but the sight and sound of him made me feel ill too so I joined him over the railings and promptly chundered. Unfortunately the sight and sound of me being sick made him feel ill so when I finished he started chucking up. Now the sight and sound of him vomiting made me feel a bit ill so when he finished I started to have another technicolor yawn myself. I honestly believe that if we hadn’t managed some synchronised puking we’d still be there now!
Another time I was out with Vic we popped into a real ale pub in Barking for a quick pint just after they’d opened on a Saturday morning. I haven’t a clue how much we had to drink but knocking back all that ale on empty stomachs wasn’t the best idea. The last thing I remember about the pub was looking out of the window at these two twin brothers cleaning these two identical cars outside two identical houses opposite and then we woke up in the park sometime later when it was cold and dark. The following week we decided to do it again and as we walked into the pub the landlord came rushing out in a real fury and literally shoved us back out the door screaming at us never to go in there again. To this day I’ve never discovered what we did!
Alice In Underpants
The worst time I remember was when I was in Amsterdam and we had a hash cake in a coffeeshop. It didn’t really sink in so we went and had another, while drinking lots of vodka. Again it didn’t kick in for much later so I continued drinking. We went back to the hotel and I thought I was going to puke so I ran to the toilet to be sick, and while puking had that horrible feeling that I was going to shit myself and was still being sick, so in a horrible drunken state had to make a decision about whether I could hold it in at either end, but this was impossible so I pretty much spent the whole night on the loo, whilst being sick into the waste paper bin. Then we had to check out of the hotel at 11!
The best hotels always have the washbasin conveniently placed so’s you can get yout head over it while still sat on the throne.
Me and my friends had been drinking in various pubs all day one summer. It was about 9pm and we were sitting in a beer garden where I fell asleep on the table. I woke up and walked off, so all my friends assumed I had gone to the toilet. I came back with 5 shots and tried to persuade everyone to have one. Only two people took me up on the offer, so i downed 3 of them. I then passed out on the table again and about half an hour later, woke up, stumbled across a busy road and fell into a bush where i proceeded to vomit everywhere. We started walking to a friends flat, passing a chinese take-away. I went in and ordered some food. Whilst waiting for my food, when the woman who ran the take away was in the back, i spotted a 2ft tall porcelain statue on a shelf in the take-away. I grabbed the statue and went outside and put it on the pavement, before returning inside to collect my food. I then took the statue back to my friends flat. I woke up in the morning with no idea where the statue came from. My friends filled me in on what had happened and i decided to take it back. I left the statue on the doorstep in a plastic bag of the take-away. Whilst walking down the road my friends kept sniggering, so i asked them why. They then informed me that i had left the statue outside the wrong take-away.
My all time high score is 8 times in one day which started off with me having a spilff right after i woke up in the morning and throwing up about 5 minutes later when i was in the shower and ended up on the streets of brighton after a party trying to convince a girl i didn’t know i was fine despite the vomit and being chased by my concerned friends who i think i was trying to run away from to convince them to stay at the party cus there was no need to walk me home. i’m such a considerate drunk.
My worst night for puke came when my mate James had a free house for a week. James, Bushby, Henry and myself decided to have a night of drink, corn bacon and Korn. I didnt drink too much but I was drunk enough to phone a mates home phone at 3am only to anger his rather demonish mother in the process. However, Rich, James and Henry had a pretty good crack at the drinking lark and the puking started with Rich in the toilet. The rest of us danced around screaming Korn and The Smiths at the top of our lungs. Rich was there for a good hour and had stunk out the whole ground floor of the house with awful bacon and cheese smells, plus the sound of Rich being sick is rather hellish! The rest of us went up to talk in James room and by this time people were starting to flake out. I was sat on the bed with James and he decided to lay down. I talked to him for a few more minutes only to discover he had fallen asleep and was being sick at the same time. This made me feel ill so I escaped downstairs where Rich and Henry had decided to call it a night so we all started to go to sleep on sofa’s etc and lights went off. 5 minutes later there was a bump and the sound of liquid flying. The light went on, and there was sick all over Rich, a bit over Henry and all over the furniture around them. Rich started to clean it up whilst Henry and I escaped back up stairs. Then Henry started being sick so I escaped him.
Everywhere I went, people being sick followed. It probably doesnt sound that bad but for someone who has such a ridiculous fear of sick and being sick, it was hell on earth. Other tales from my early drinking days includes me being sick in my mates’ parents wardrobe whilst they were in the room and me puking over a sleeping cat of which was owned by a girl I fancied. That was the last time I was sick by drinking and I was 17.
A few days later Henry admitted that this had actually been his sick. He had got up to go to the toilet to be sick, lost his balance [hence the bump] and puked on the spot. Rich happened to be on that spot but because Rich was SO pissed, he thought that the sick must have come out of him and that is why he started to clean up. Just proved that Henry is a rather devious drunk.
I remember being on the cross channel ferry, on the way to France on a school trip many years ago. It was the roughest seas I’d ever seen. Look out of the portside windows and all you could see was sky. Look out of the starboard and all you could see was the sea. You get the idea.
I was sitting opposite one of my friends, who had a very nasty, snotty cold. He was also complaining about feeling a bit sea sick. Two other firends were sitting either side of him, saying that if he puked, I’d get the worst of it. As luck would have it, he was just about to sneeze. He quickly lifted his hankie up and clamped it to his nose, but before he could sneeze, he threw up the contents of his stomach. Lucky for me that when the projectile vomit exited his gob, it hit the hankie and sprayed sidewards, covering my giggling friends. The giggling soon stopped.
Pervy In The Pub
A ‘friend’ of mine was once amid a drunken orgy going down on a lass, whereby said lass amid what they could only assume were lustful groans of ‘wait wait stop!’ etc, but seconds later she jerked bolt upright and promptly vomitted a stomachful of chilli con carne into her own aroused pussy. inconsiderate bitch.
Last new years eve i went and got rather drunk with some lady friends in the west end. i’m not very good with alcohol, as i usually tend to vomit after very little, so needless to say that by about 3am, i was feeling pretty rough.
as we were in the west end, we decided to get some yummy food from china town. we went to a restaurant, and i ordered some singapore noodles. however, i did not have one mouthful. why? because i was back and forth from the toliet, throwing up!
when we left the restaurant, i remember thinking to myself, “surely that’s it now. there can’t be anything else for me to throw up!” oh, how wrong i was! no sooner had we stepped in a cab, i felt it rising. i somehow managed to throw up in my mouth without opening it! so there i sat, my mouth full of sick, unable to tell my friends that my mouth was, indeed, full of sick, resembling what i can only describe as a hamster after a visit to the food bowl.
fortunately, my friend carly noticed my impressive faceful buldge, and asked the cab driver to pull over. PHEW! hooray! the sickness is over!
nope! we had to pull over 3 more times on the 10min journey home!
My brother in law saw some lass on the underground calmly open her handbag and fill it with puke! A few weeks later Wes, Dom and I were close to some peaky looking lass that barfed up a pile of noodles after the Fu Manchu gig last month. At the next stop the entire carriage cleared, we stayed where we were because we’re ‘ard.
None of us said anything, but when we alighted the train Wes muttered, “that was so fucking cool”.
I don’t really have too many interesting sick stories, although for the last three times i have thrown up (which is over the space of about 4 years), they have all been into different objects, and never in a sink or toilet.
the first was a couple of years ago after my friend made me (what i thought, in my stoned state) was a lovely stir-fry. in fact, there were lumps of garlic/ginger/nutmeg in it the size of small villages. needless to say, i wolfed it down, and awoke a few hours later with the horrendous challenge of finding something near me to throw up in. unfortunatly (for him, more than me), the only thing close was his washing up bowel, still full of dishes from the aformentioned stir-fry the night before. i didn’t mind. i left before he woke up.
the next was after eating a meal consisting mainly of mushrooms (which I decided to ignore the fact I was allergic to). i was then picked up by my dad and started complaining that i felt sick. three rollies later (i for some reason thought they would calm my stomach). i still felt sick, so i threw up. lumpy mushroom crap in the car. with all the windows closed, going 70 over the orwell bridge. it was all stuck in my shoes and the mat. i then had to clear it all up at 12.00 at night. wicked.
the most recent time that i’ve thrown up was about 4 months ago. me and my girlfriend both had a ridicilous sickness bug, and i was lying in my room, trying to take my mind off things by watching scrubs series 1-5. after about 9 hours of this, i realised i couldn’t hold it in anymore, so i frantically searched around my room for a safe house for my internal misfortunes, but since my room is in the attic and getting down the ladder was a no-no, i found my chester draws. not nice.
Here’s a little tale, true to the letter which happened some years back, and which I call…
The Tale of the Mexican Junk Sponge
After one particularly fateful day spent guzzling and glugging from the moment the pubs opened, and later a night spent busting into a Busted gig wherein we terrorised security, roadies and touts alike, my companion Henry and I decided (at around 4am) that nachos were probably a good idea. No, a great idea. So much so, no less, that we ended up grating an entire block of Cathedral City onto the ‘chos mighty summit and allowing it to melt into a gelatenous tasty goo. We scoffed the lot in five minutes flat, then passed out in his room – him in the comfy bed, me on the much-less-comfy sleeping-bag-and-Spongebob-adorned floor, with Master Squarepants acting as a makeshift pillow. Then came a rather nightmarish night of disturbing visions of the roadies of Busted covered not in flour but in cheese, chasing me not around the Portsmouth Guild Hall but around a Mexican Bullring, the smell of something spicey and cheesey and alcoholic and foul thick in the air; all interspersed with a zombified mess of everyone’s favourite pourous pineapple-dweller cursing the moon – which was equally as festooned with dripping, gelatenous product-of-cow – and being violently sick right at my face…
Needless to say, I awoke in a pool of my own vomit with a pounding head which felt not unlike an army of militant black ants protesting under the leadership of Malc-ant X, riotous destruction, firebombs and all, right behind my eye-jelly and all throughout my cranial capital. Sadly, Master ‘pants had not been spared the wrath of my nacho-ey expulsions – covered down his entire left side in a brew of bile, nachos-with-cheers and, of course, brew. A handful of aspirin or paracetamol or ibuprofen or anything and a couple of pints of finest water later, and we set about the job of rectifying my mess – Henry’s help with which I’m still grateful for to this day. Yuck. And let me tell you, for years – years – I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as a plate of Mexican food, although my feelings towards booze weren’t greatly affected. It’s only more recently that I’ve overcome this fair phobia – and now I enjoy Mexican as much as the next man, though perhaps a great deal more if the next man were a sponge.
For one of the most comical of sights I’ve ever seen was dear Bob, splayed limbs all akimbo on the floor of the shower, washing powder all about him – especially his left – eyes an off-colour from the bile belched thereon, water cascading from shower above, looking for all the world like a sponge off-his-tits, the white drug which had glazed his eyes so still strewn all about him, as he tried to wash off the sick on himself – and I’ll tell you: a more junked-up Spongebob, I’ve never seen!!