A fella that I used to work with years ago, back when I was a young fella starting out, arrived into the workshop in a taxi one Monday morning - about 25 minutes gone clock-in time.
The smell of drink off him was something else, slurring his words and generally looking like death. He was still half-cut from the night before.
"There was no way I could have driven my own car in this morning" he said to me as he made a cup of tea "Scapa Flow were in The Manhattan last night and the pints... well... they were flowing too."
Tea finished, he grabbed the keys to one of our SEAT work vans and said "Right, I better start working on paying for those pints."
Still STEAMING. He took a ferocious speed-wobble going for the driver side door. One of the boys pointed out that he'd gotten a cab in.
"Yeah, and I said I couldn't have driven my own car. I don't mind dinging the van."
I fucking loved that job.