Years back about ten of us went to Calais for a birthday weekend to chill on the beach with a big picnic and lots of beer and wine before heading into the town for a decent French meal and go bar hopping.
We brought two crates of beer, several large packs of ice to keep them cool and a pop up tent to keep everything in the shade.
After many hours the ice had melted, the tent collapsed and all we had left was one nigh on boiling can of lager a friend decided he would chug back in one.
He opened it, took a huge swig, went to vomit, stuck his lit cigarette in his eyeball and was spinning around on the floor like a Catherine wheel propelled by his projectile vomit which muted his screams of pain.
I had to laugh.