What not to tell your parents

Parents and hangovers don’t mix. Especially if you already have a terrible habit of opening your mouth before engaging your brain.

I’m afraid I have traumatised my parents and I’m not entirely sure they will recover from the shock.

My parents visited me on Sunday and took me out to lunch. I’m sure you’re all thinking that sounds lovely and a nice way to spend a Sunday. And it would have been, if I hadn’t have been about to be awarded the prize for the worlds biggest hangover.

Saturday night had been spent at Best Friend’s house, celebrating another friend’s engagement. True to form, we consumed a lot of alcohol and I finally got home at stupid o’clock in the morning.

When my parents arrived, I attempted to make conversation, but was more than happy to just nod and smile whilst I was brought up to date on the village’s latest news and the developments with various people’s ailments (I don’t know these people, but apparently it is essential that I know all about their lives!).

By this stage, we were at the restaurant and I was trying to prepare my stomach for the fact that it was about to encounter solid food and convince it that it would be fine with this. My parents were asking me about what I had been up to, commenting that I seemed to be very busy. I explained that I was, but that it was ok and I had some more projects in the pipeline. As all good parents should do, they expressed an interest and asked what I was planning.

This is when it happened. I still don’t know why I said it. I can only think that my brain had gone back to sleep and had left my body to try and cope with the situation alone.

I informed my parents that I was going into business with Best Friend’s Bloke as a porn baron.

Well, more porn administrator really.

The world seemed to stop for a few moments and then reality came rushing in. All I could hear was the woosh as the entire restaurant whipped their heads round to stare at us.

Dad went an odd shade of purple, coughed slightly and then started eating as quickly as he could. I think he thought that if he carried on eating, time would reverse itself and this would never have happened.

Mum sat there with a fixed, slightly manic, smile on her face. As she reached for her drink and downed it in one, my brain made a very brief appearance, realised what was happening and fled.

The more I tried to explain, the bigger hole I dug myself. Best Friend’s Bloke works as a vision mixer on the local TV station’s porn channel. A lot of the women have asked him to develop their websites and I’ve said I’ll help him.

Of course, the more I attempted to reassure my parents, the worse I made it. Until it sounded like Best Friend’s Bloke ran a porn empire and I was his newest recruit, about to give up the day job and become Crystal Chandelier!

I gradually trailed off and we sat in silence for about a year. The silence was so great, that I could hear the man on the other side of the restaurant picking bits of food out of his teeth.

The only thing I could think to say was “So, Mum, how’s Fred and his hernia”.

Apparently Fred’s fine.