Making new Friends

Thursday night in London has become the traditional home of Chris and Kirsty Thurdees, the general idea is that I travel to north London armed with alcohol, and my spangle disco shoes and Chris and I go out and get hideously drunk in the upmarket watering holes of muswell hill. On Friday morning I drag myself into work, usually in the same clothes I passed out in the previous night and muddle my bleary eyed still half pissed way through the morning until lunch time,at which point I usually go and throw up, drink some water and eat something purchased from a fine eateri'e such as Greggs or maccy D's.
All was going well until my colleague kindly pointed out that she lived locally to my friend, and insted on driving me into work on Friday mornings after my drinking session the night before as she would enjoy the company.
The First Friday I dutifully turned up, in my usual half drunk, half hung over Friday morning glory and awaited the car that would collect me and deliver me and the pig that had shat in my head to my place of work.
It was approximately ten minutes into the journey, with my colleague merrily chatting away about her family, home and life when I realised just what a mistake I had made.
This was the first time I had been a confined space alone with any of my colleagues since starting my new Job four months ago, and so desperate to make the right impression despite my obviously deteriorated physical condition I made a special effort to smile and nod in all the right places and respond with appropriate "mms" and "reallys?" when required. It was during a particularly vigorous nod and smile that my stomach made an unusual "HHHUUURRRP" noise, which was followed by an overwhelming urge to curl up in a ball with my hands over my eyes and put my head somewhere on the floor by my feet. Without running anything by my brain first my body responded with a lurch forward which caused my stomach to make yet more involuntary gargling sounds whilst at the same time attempting to climb up my throat and out of my mouth, I grabbed the dash board with both hands and dropped forward, straining at the seatbelt with a loud "uuuurrrggghhh!!!!
My horrified colleague is shouting from her seat "OH MY GOD ARE YOU OK? WHATS HAPPENING!!" whilst searching the busy London orbital for a place to pull over, I want to explain or say something reassuring like "it's ok, I just need to throw up the ten bison vodka shooters that are sitting in my stomach from last night as they are being stirred up by the movement of the car which is causing me to suffer all the classic symptoms of nausea" however at this point my brain is still trying to figure out a way to put my head on the floor by my feet and that conundrum seems to have it a little too preoccupied to assist in the formation of words, so my mouth, left to fend for itself says something along the lines of "EEERRRAAARRRRGG!!HEEERRRAAAPP!!!!!VOMIT, NOW, FUCKING NOW PULL OOOOVER...RRRUUUURRPPP!!"
not the best use of the queens English I will admit, but none the less this seems to work and my terrified looking colleague, spurred into action at the prospect of the inside of her car receiving an unwanted spray job swerves her car across three lanes of rush hour traffic and parks it neatly in a bush three feet up a roadside verge, I fumble with the Lock on the door and stumble out into the sparse roadside greenery, fall on my hands and knees beside the car and unceremoniously empty the contents of my gut onto the pavement as a select audience of a few thousand passing commuters honk car horns and shout words of encouragement from their wound down windows such as "GO ON LOVE GET IT UP!!" and "PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT!!!"
After completing my M25 chunder blockbusting debut, and performing several encores I climb back into the car to find my unfortunate co-worker ducked low over the steering wheel with a look of sheer disgust on her face and without another word started the car and drove us the rest of the way to work.
As we drove the odd passing car honked horns in appreciation of my show as my colleague pushed through the rush hour traffic in grim silence until finally pulling into the company carpark, a seemingly endless half an hour later, at which point she turned to me and said, I just thought I ought to warn you, I wont be able to give you a lift next Friday as I'm out of the office, "ok" I smiled, "but thanks for today"
That morning on the holiday calendar sticky dots appeared next to my chauffeurs name for the next five Fridays, so I'm assuming she dosen't want to take me to work again.