Danes are mad. Official.

OK, that’s stretching it just a little. I met one Dane the other night and he was mad, perhaps almost enough to paint the entire country a bright shade of “bonkers”.

Liam’s visiting with a friend of his. They’re very kindly paying for most of my beer and food while they’re here on the basis that I’m saving them around €40 a night each on accommodation costs. Feeding me and getting me drunk is comparatively cheap, especially when I’m having one of those weeks where I’m tired and don’t have much of an appetite.

Well, on Wednesday night I met them for a beer and a pizza at the Irish Coffee place around the corner. Nice little restaurant as it turns out. After the meal, John headed back for an early night while Liam and I walked up to Chambre Neuf for a nightcap. Seriously. One pint. I had an 8am start at work the next day.

As Liam ordered the beer, a mad Danish guy turned from the bar with two very large drinks in his hands. He took one look at me and yelled “**** you!!!” with a manic look on his face. He forced one of the drinks on me (a G&T) and insisted I drink it. He was bigger than me. I didn’t argue.

I scarpered to the other side of the bar and waited for Liam. About ten minutes, half a pint and one (Dane-supplied) cocktail later he appeared. Carrying another cocktail. We managed to get about fifteen minutes of conversation in before the Mad Dane once again located us. This time armed with a whole bottle of vodka and a 1.5l bottle of Coke. He looked at his watch. “It is 11:00. You drink this in 25 minutes and I pay. All of it. And no cheating!”

A challenge… Which we beat, finishing it in 18 minutes, though Liam definitely had more than I did. Our reward? About 15 shots of toffee vodka, though the Mad Dane managed to drop three of them on the floor. “Pah, is only money!”. We weren’t as mad as him. We shared these with some people at a nearby table who’d been our audience for the previous half hour. All was merry and fine, friendships were being made and conversations held.

Then he came back with another bottle of vodka and more Coke. Good gravy.

After trying to pick Liam up, groping his bottom, almost falling over twice, losing to Liam at a “down the large glass of neat vodka” competition and shouting loudly for a while longer our mysterious benefactor departed. The bar got a lot quieter. We worked our way through a bit more of the vodka and filled the Coke bottle up with the rest as a take-home.

I got talking to one of the bar staff and asked if he minded telling me how much the Danish guy had spent. “Over 400 Euros”, I was told. On a company credit card. Something to do with ship leasing or boat hire or something. I only hope that he’d just signed a pretty impressive contract and we didn’t diddle him out of too much of his bonus. I did give him a €20 bill to try to offset things, and he tried to eat it… Maybe I should have kept it!

So to our mysterious mad drunken Danish booze supplier – thank you.

And I made it to work on time the next morning, before you ask. Amazingly, I was actually quite productive as well. Go figure. I don’t think Liam and John made it onto the slopes before 13:00 the next day though!

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