A few years ago, during the summer, a friend of mine, Jack, was doing a commercial pilot's license at a nearby airport.

On one occasion Jack had finished his exams one morning, so was having a few beers with his fellow trainee pilots that afternoon, before they were going to head into town, where I would meet up with him.

Whilst getting a lift into town Jack called me to make arrangements as to where and when to meet up. He seemed very chatty, but in the middle of the call the line just went dead. About a minute later he called me back, and we sorted out the details.

It was when I went to meet him that he explained what had happened. First up he said his phone had been smashed to bits which I didn't believe as he had called me back. He then explained that he had had to use his SIM card in someone else's phone.

"As I was on the phone to you, I decided to stick my head out the window," he recounted, "and then the phone just dropped out of my hand.

"'Stop the car! Stop the car!' I called and we pulled up. I got out of the car and could see my phone about 50 yards back up the road looking OK. 'Alright lads, wait here,' I said, and then started jogging towards the phone. Just then an ambulance came down the road, and drove straight over it, breaking it into several thousand pieces.

"The other problem I've got is that I'm going to have to get a replacement," he continued. "I've been telling my parents about the new phone and no doubt they'll want to see it. I can't have them thinking that I'm any more of an arse than they do already."

Anyway, the evening continued on, and Jack and I ended up in a club, but then managed to get separated. Without his mobile phone Jack was difficult to get hold of, so I headed home, hoping to find him there, or at least thinking that's where he'd head.

I wasn't too surprised to find out that I'd got home before him, but I wasn't waiting too long before there was a knock at the door from Jack. Covered in branches, leaves and mud. Basically, the only way back to mine he knew was along the canal, and as he was worried about falling in, he had virtually dragged himself through the bushes on the other side of the path.

Anyhow, I offered him a beer, which he opened before proceeding to fall asleep on the couch. I couldn't argue that I was particularly surprised by this turn of events, so I grabbed a marker pen and drew 'Twat' on his forehead, before turning in for the night.

The next morning I got up for work and sent Jack on his way to get his replacement phone. Unfortunately for Jack, he didn't check his face in the mirror before leaving the house, but did notice that I was grinning rather excessively. "Just thinking about how much of a laugh last night was, Jack," was my reply. So, off Jack toddled into town to replace his phone before going home.

This next part is a bit of an illustration into why alcohol in the system from the previous night, combined with a naturally outgoing personality can be a problem. Naturally enough, the assistant noticed the writing on Jack's forehead, and mentioned that there was something on his face. However, when Jack questioned him for more details he just said it was nothing, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. Jack, aided on by the alcohol in his system, proceeded to tell the assistant all the details of how he had broken the phone, how he had been holding it out of the window of a moving car whilst having a conversation, how it had dropped out of his hand, and how the ambulance had driven over it, and that he needed to get an exact replacement as he didn't want his parents thinking he was an arse...

Just before lunchtime I got a text informing me that I was a tosser, and telling me that when he had got back to the flight school his mates had all been falling around the floor laughing, which was made worse by his continued asking of, "What's so funny? What's so funny?"