After the Office Party

I'm nursing a headache the size of Corfu my stomach is tied up in knots, it's the seventeenth time that I've been to the loo feeling sick with a dose of the trots. My memory's blank as to how I behaved but from texts on my phone I can see that Doreen who I met said 'yes' when I proposed (she's retired now, and seventy three). I lie on the bed still in suit and loud tie no effort to climb in the bedding, my backache tells me as the evening went by I danced like Grandads at a wedding. A bad move to mix all those drinks, that's for sure, I think I may have crossed the line, there's a photocopy on the floor by the door and I'd swear that those buttocks are mine.