THE NAKED TRUTH...

A born survivor Andrew has conditioned his body to deal with any eventuality. After a night out in Brighton Andrew was 1 pound short of the price for a chicken burger. Unfazed he managed to barter with colleagues for the elusive currency he required in exchange for going for a late night swim. An affinity for the sea has forged Andrew into a fine swimmer and he wasted no time in heading off to the beach where he cast off his clothes and headed out into the murky surf. December is a bitterly cold time of year on the seafront and a thick snowy blanket was descending upon the coast as Andrew trudged to the waters’ edge, triumphantly marching into the shallows with his arms raised in triumph.

Andrew’s night took a turn for the worse however as he was caught in a rip current and vanished beneath the waves a few meters out, surfacing a few seconds later as a mere silhouette in the distance and frantically paddling back towards the shore. Andrew fought the elements dragging him under with all his might and eventually returned, out of breath safely to the beach.

Andrew’s woe was not over though as a new challenge faced him. The current had dragged him down the beach and in the pitch-blackness Andrew couldn’t locate his clothing or belongings. Naked as the day he was born, close to hypothermia and with clubs on the beach emptying out in droves Andrew frantically scoured the coast for his clothing and his passport which he’d failed to give to friends…Eventually Andrew located his clothes and, without having anything to dry himself with, pulled them on and trudged, sopping wet, off to claim his hard earned pound, which enabled him to buy his kebab shop chicken burger. The second everyone got home Andrew cast off his salty wet clothes and enjoyed some down time (see photo)

THE VAMPIRE ROOMS

Exclusivity is the name of the game for any aspiring young socialite and for Andrew it seemed as if he'd well and truly arrived as he found his way onto the guest-list at the Vampire Rooms in Liverpool. What started out as a good night however ended in disarray as Andrew quickly hit the bag and grew out of control. He was banned from the Dancefloor (akin to banning Elton john from Interflora) and before he knew what hit him Andrew was alone, out of his gourd and penniless three stories underground. At 2:30AM he surfaced finally, but now Andrew had a real problem for there was seemingly no way for him to get home. Andrew plucked up his energy and did the only thing he could think of, he decided to WALK the 25 miles home. 

Minutes turned into hours as the cityscape gave way to outlying slums and then middle surburbia, but still he had gotten nowhere and now there was a further problem...Andrew needed a shit. With nowhere to go and on a main road Andrew held on for as long as he could before nature got the better of him and he raced around the back of a pub to well and truly "drop the bomb" so to speak. relieved, but dehydrated, sober and exhausted Andrew sat down on the curb to contemplate his next move.

It was at this time that Andrew made a friend. A guardian angel he may not have been but the pimp that andrew befriended (after he ascertained that Andrew was in no physical or financial state to rent a prostitute) offered him a slice of Pizza and some words of encouragement that spurred Andrew on for another few miles.

Eventualy beaten and exhausted he called his mother at around 5:30AM on the sunday morning and had her wake his little sister up and drive down to get him. The next day Andrew was assigned the task of cleaning the inside of the car which had been smeared in excrement. 

EVERYBODY LOVES ANDREW

Ever keen to make a good impression Andrew ventured down to Brighton beach one sunny summer's day, cheeky bottle of Rose in tow, to rendezvous with some American Express employees. Viticulturalist Andrew settled down with his bottle only to find that he had clumsily left his trusty corkscrew at home. Fortunately resourcefulness is one of Andrew's many virtues and he proceeded to use his front door key as a makeshift bottle opener, pressing the pointed tip against the cork and attempting to drive it through the top into the pink liquid below...The fact that wine is bottled in a vacuum and any attempt to condense the contents therein will result i the build up of great pressure alluded Andrew who put his back into the task at hand. Sure enough he was illprepared for the impending release of the pressure that had built up and when the bottle exploded in his hand's he was at once covered in sweet Zinfandel and blood. After a quick rinse in the sea Andrew decided that he was fit to continue with the evening's festivities and put his mangled fingers out of his mind. That night the deep gash in one of his fingers hadn't stopped bleeding, so quick thinking Andrew (who's father is a hand surgeon) decided that he would sleep with his hand upside down in a pint glass so as to limit the mess his spewing blood was causing.

When the morning came around a gaunt and nausseated Andrew looked down at the glass to see a blackened finger hovering above three inches of deep red blood. Conceding he needed help Andrew called the office and advised them he wouldn't be in until mid-morning.

With noway to get to the hospital however after the 999 operator refused to send two paramedics and an ambulance to get a man with a (in Andrew's parlance) "cut finger" Andrew sat down on his bed in somewhat of a quandary. In the end Andrew opted out of seeking medical assistance, deciding instead that he could catch two episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond and a Just Shoot Me re-run before he was due in work!

At 5PM after nearly collapsing through blood loss in his office Andrew finally made it to the emergency room where he was seen almost instantly so medical staff could clean his hand and fit a cast that would enable him to keep his finger which was on he brink of dying.