Of the 1,545,901 British travellers to Tenerife in 1999, seven arseholes from Glasgow emerged as a serious threat to the island's alcohol supplies.
Intent on indulging in the finer things life has to offer, these intrepid ambassadors set out with high hopes and returned with hangovers the size of elephant winnits.
It is a tale of deviants, drink, dunnies, and dangleberries; a veritable cornucopia of cunting-things-up; a parable of being pissed; a feast of fuckwittery... in essence, a bloody good laugh!
This is their hazy recollection of the drunken shenannigans that took place during two weeks in September 1999 in Las Americas, Tenerife.
Ru, Duckfast, James, Andy, Ally, Tim, and Matt went where no man has been before (well, apart from the other 1,545,896 this year alone!), drank like fish, swore like sailors, farted like rusty tractors, did a whole lot of golden yawns, and lived to tell the tale.