Rog has been drinking in ‘The Rampant Pig’ all day and for much of the night.

The Landlord eventually says to him, “Come on Rog, it’s time you went home?” 

He replies, “OK Elvis, I'll be on my way then.”

Rog steps off his stool, by the bar, and falls flat on his face. “Shoite”

He pulls himself up using the stool and dusts himself off.

He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, again! “Shoite, Shoite!” 

After a few seconds, to get his bearings, he takes a long, sideways, look at the door.

He thinks, “If I can reach the door and get some fresh air, I’ll be fine.”

He crawls to the door on his belly and pulls himself up, using the door frame.

He opens the door and sticks his head outside, taking in a long deep breath of fresh wholesome air.

Feeling much better now, he steps out onto the pavement and falls flat on his face! 

“Bloody Hell, I really must be pissed,” he confirms. 

His house is not far away so he crawls to the front door and hauls himself upright using the door frame. The door opens without too much effort and he works his way in. He reaches the stairs using the wall for support.

He looks up the stairs. “Oh, no fockin' way!”

Undaunted, he crawls up the stairs on all fours, to the bedroom door.

He congratulates himself “That was easy!”

He climbs up, using the door frame, opens the door and makes a grab for the wall.

The wall was not where he felt that it should have been, so he falls flat on his face, again!

“bu**er” he mutters.

He manages to crawl across the room and climb into bed.

The next morning, his wife comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee. “Get up Rog. You had too much to drink last night, didn’t you?” 

Rog replies, “I did, Kat, sorry. I was fockin' pissed. How did you guess?” 

“The Landlord of the ‘Rampant Pig’ phoned to tell me that you left your wheelchair in the pub, again!”