Drinking it all in

Is there ever a good reason to get blind drunk?

Absolutely not--I like to see what I'm scared of.

I mean, all joking aside, in a dangerous galaxy you have to keep your wits about you. Not that I don't get nicely tiddly sometimes, helps to dull the fear and the loneliness. For a while, anyway. I'll let you in on a secret though--drugs don't work that well on me. They never managed to readjust me using them (just had my brain washed and can't do a thing with it, ha ha) and those suppressants they dosed the water with back on Earth never worked either.

So I have to let alcohol or drugs work, if you see what I mean. They understood that back on the Liberator. It never bothered them that much if I knocked back a couple of stiff adrenaline and somas while on teleport duty; they knew the slightest whiff of danger would sober me up in an instant.

I have to admit I did get blind drunk once. Not entirely my fault though: a trans-dimensional telepathic alien wanted me out of the way so it could take over Orac, and, well, twisted an idea I had in my head about a night out on the town in Space City so it became a compulsion. A few Pan-Galactic Gargleblasters and Syrian Panther Sweats later and apparently I was promising Cally a necklace of my teeth. Can't remember anything about it; pity as they found me outside one of the top topless alien bars.

Cally said she still fancied a necklace for sentimental reasons, but I managed to convince her that a lock of my hair was a nice memento--soft, silky, an attractive colour, and more rarity value.