Man Just The Right Amount Of Tipsy To Sprint Home From Pub At Full Pelt

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STRUCK BY a bolt of what feels like divine inspiration but is in fact eight pints of Guinness, local man Rob Costigan has made the impromptu decision not to get a taxi or bus home.

Experiencing the perfect balance of tipsiness which tricks his mind into thinking he is making a genuinely clever decision, Costigan said goodbye to friends and waited until they were out of view to begin sprinting home.

“The 12 euro I’ll save on a taxi can go on tomorrow’s hungover breakfast pizza. Smart Rob,” Rob said to himself, as he puffed out his cheeks and sprinted full pelt down the street giving no consideration to how ridiculous he would look to sober people.

His technique lacking and his feet making a noisy stomping sound on the pavement Costigan’s stamina trickled to empty a 50 metres distance from the pub, but thanks to his level of intoxication he was able to ignore his body’s limitations.

“How fast am I going? 30kph? Get to the next lamppost… yes! I did it! Okay next lamppost, fuck it just keep going, time yourself. Count 1,2,3,” Costigan counseled himself as he sped along.

Accessing sober thoughts for a brief second, Costigan achieved a moment of clarity which allowed him to correctly observe he was acting like a maniac before immediately returning to his tipsy state and questionable decision making.

“No, I’m a legend. A Usain-fucking-Bolt of a legend, look how fast my legs are moving, do you know who can’t do that? Loads of people, lazy pricks but it’s like the beer calories don’t count. Smart Rob doing smart exercise after smart pints,” the lunatic continued until having stop suddenly and empty the contents of his stomach.

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