Babs: So we were in France on this lovely cruise ship that made good of it's promise of having bloody free drinks the whole trip, and I made quite good of it's offer. I drank myself so far into oblivion that my hubby had to pull me out of the bath one night and I was talking to god on the big white telephone. The next day at this lovely quaint chateau I was so bloody hungover that the tiny tapestries room-

Jean: It wasn't a tiny room, it was huge, you were just hungover.

Babs: Well it was bloody well a tiny room! But so I was walking into this room and my hubby, who is fluent in French, and me who was only semi-fluent and mightily hungover-

Jean: You were still drunk from the wine at the minibar.

Babs: I was hungover! I look around the room and I know I'm going to throw up, all over this beautiful old room and it's damn tapestries, so my hubby tells the man in polite French to get me out of the room right now, I'm gonna toss my curdles. He pulled me down this staircase and I was wearing these shoe protectors, they're plastic right, you don't have those in America, right? Well, I was wearing these shoe protectors and I'm about to hurl all over this grand stone stairwell so I slip one off and throw up in it, right?

Jean: It was bloody embarrassing.

Me: Well at least you didn't puke on the grande ol' stairwell.

Babs: I got chunks here and there, that flew all over.

John:And we had to walk past it later, too, all splattered over the wall in a miffy. We just pretended we didnt know you.

Mary Ellen: So did you know it was her who threw up?

Jean: We knew alright, it was damn embarrassing. And about an hour later we had to go find her. She was behind a tree in the south garden, sleeping with her handbag hugging her chest like a babe.

Babs: And we went drinking after that! Remember, it was when you drunk dialed mum in Westminster and was singing "Under The Street's of Paris?" (begins a horrid slurred rendition of the song)

Me: Wouldn't that be a bad time to go back out drinking?

Babs: Aaaaannd, unnduuur the srtreeeetttzzz of Pariiiiiiisssshhhh~ Love, we are British. It's never a bad time to go out drinking!! Plus, we were the only four Brits on the whole cruise so all the American were all, "What the bollocks is with these Ingies?!

Me: I see. Um, what is "Talking to god on the big white telephone?"

All Except Me: (Burst out laughing)

Babs: Love, you know when your drunk and your throwing up over the loo, screaming "Oh God! I'm never gonna drink again?" That's talking to god on the big white phone. That's stage one of drunkies, just like those thick Irish tell you.

Jean: Damn the thick Irish! Wait- Stage One?

Babs: Stage two is when your leaning over the toilet and you begin to realize that the shapes on the floor tiles and floral patterns create different things. Like how when you squint one way it starts to look like a Merigold, while in another it looks like that block from the football team.

John: You mean the one who always recites quotes from the battle of Hastings?

Babs: That's the one! Ah, good memories. Never'll forget that one, bloody throwing up in a five hundred year old French castle.