Someone once observed that everyone has a tequila story - an exaggerated tale that generally involves someone falling over, losing their trousers or paying an urgent visit to accident and emergency.
"I'll never drink tequila again," they announce.
Well, I can understand that. This, er, person I know had an unfortunate incident with hash that put him off for life.
Late at night, he was sitting with friends watching movies and indulging in the use of this foul drug. Conversation had reached a low ebb, shall we say - nobody had said anything for about an hour. Very sociable, that.
Passed a particularly large joint, he didn't notice as a large rock of burning hashish fell onto his lap.
He didn't notice as it burnt through his trousers and underwear, but he certainly noticed when it reached his privates.
Shrieking like a girl, he stunned his friends by leaping into the centre of the room, belching thick smoke and frantically clubbing himself in the testicles.
It's depravity of this sort that put me off forever.
Just say "No", kids.