After sipping far too many Glenfiddich for six hours or so, gnu was as planked as a salmon. Realizing that nature was soon to call, he struggled to get to his feet.

Weaving from side to side on the way to the "little boys room, he reached out for support, collapsing a table, knocking it and a dozen or so full beer to the floor. The proud owners of the drinks were not so happy with Mr. gnu, and rose up to give him a good thrashing as payment for his ill deed.

Plastered, but still quick thinking gnu rose to his feet. Sourrounded by the angry and fiesty lot, gnu raised his fists in drunken combat. "OK, he yelled out, who tripped me?"

The potential combatants looked at each other puzzled, and then gazed apologetically back at gnu. ""It wasn't me said one. Not me either, said the next. Nor me, said another".

Through a intoxicated gaze, gnu spitily replied, O.K. since it's Christmas, let's leave it at that.

He yelled out, Merry Christmas to everyone, as he staggered on his way to the Pissoir.