Off the back of the other thread, and self explanatory title!
H's would be the night of his stag do. He'd gone to Central London with his mates and they got him completely lampshaded. He got a train home and rang me every five minutes to tell me LOUDLY how drunk he was and how embarrassing it was that his friends had dressed him in a Spiderman costume with plastic manacles. Because he was on a train, the signal kept cutting out, so he'd ring me back, shout and swear about the signal, then get cut off again. And repeat. For an hour and a half.
When he got in, he lay face down on the lounge floor, crying and howling "I'M SOOOOO F***ING DRUNK!!". Then I had to bring him a bowl and rub his back while he puked up a lot, still crying.