Just started a new job back in London, the Christmas do was a fairly posh affair in the office, with outside caterers and table service etc. Started at 2pm, I was off my face at 6.30pm. Put my coat and bag on, told my colleagues I'd had a lovely evening and they refused to let me leave.
We left to go to a local pub at about 8pm, the bouncer wouldn't let me in so I tried to reason with him. I forgot I wasn't in NZ anymore, where you can negotiate with the bouncer and if they still don't want to let you in, chat a bit about the rugby, give each other a hug and be on your merry way. So I tactfully touched the bouncer on the arm as I was explaining I just needed to pop my head in and explain to my colleagues I wasn't allowed in. He went absolutely mental. Which of course made me do it even more. I can't really remember the resolve of that.
I kind of remember falling over on my way to Old Street Station, falling asleep in on the train, ending up in Golders Green, falling over again, getting a taxi home and falling in a bush. I arrived at Old Street Station at around 8.30pm and landed on my front door about four hours later. Not a controversial story, but considering I'd been in this job less than a week I'm pretty proud of myself.