@hingehead,
As he enters the pub, Dave remembers well his wife's words when he left the house.
"If you come back pissed one more time - just one more time - that's it. It's finished. I'll leave you."
"I swear, darling," he'd replied, "You mean everything to me, babes. I'll never drink again. I'm just going for a walk. Any way, I've only got a fiver on me. How can I get pissed on that?"
Despite his promises, she'd still slammed the door behind him as he'd left.
In the pub, he sees his mates at the bar. He feels guilty even being in there.
"You know what you need, don't you?" says Mike. "One beer. Just have the one."
"Well. I suppose it can't hurt. It'll cheer me up a bit and gimme the confidence to make up with her even more when I get home, " he says, ordering the first pint.
10 pints later, his mates having bought him drinks, Dave is laughing and joking when, suddenly, he doesn't feel so good. He stands and vomits all down the front of his suit.
"Shiiit," he stammers. "Fellas, this, hic, ain't funny. She's gonna know that I dr.. that I dr... drank in the pub."
Mike, despite being wasted, has the solution.
"No worries. That's a suit, innit. Dry clean only. All you gotta do is pop this tenner in your best procket... in your breast pocket," mumbles Mike, putting ten pounds in his pocket and patting it, "And then tell the missus when you get home that some bastard puked on you when you was on the tube. If she don't believe you, you just gotta say, 'Check my pocket then, there's the tenner he gimme to get my suit cleaned.'"
"You, sir," says the foolish Dave, "Are a genius."
5 pints later, Dave is destroyed. He and his mates have had a blinding night.
"I got to go, boys. Gonna walk back. Try to shober up a bit. Thanks for all the help, Mikey boy."
He stumbles awkwardly home.
He psyches himself up standing before his front door. He's nervous. He does his best to appear sober and rings the bell.
"What time do you call..." his wife begins, opening the door, but when she sees the state of him, she interrupts herself. "You bastard. You're drunk, in't ya?"
"I swear to you, darlin'. I am not."
"You filthy git, you are. You've puked all down yourself. That's it it's over. I warned you."
"Hold it!" shouts Dave, waving a commanding finger. "Before you go accusin' me, hear me out. I was on the tube. This gisdusting bloke (I think he may have been drunk) just vomited all over me. I was fuuuurious."
"A likely story," she snaps. "I'm leavin' you."
"Look. If you don't believe me, check my pocket, there's a tenner in there he gave me to get the vomit cleaned off my blazer. An' I only went out with a fiver, remember?"
The wife looks dubious but, braving the vomit, reaches into his breast pocket.
"Hang on," she says. "There's twenty quid in here."
Dave winks at her confidently. "The other tenner's from the bloke that **** in my trousers."
