We've all fallen into the trap of being a young boy and thinking our father is the greatest man on the planet with the hairiest chest and biggest mousetache, but as we grow older we slowly see that he's not much more than a cunt and a scoundrel.
My dad's no cunt nor scoundrel though. He's the greatest hero of the 20th century. My dad was the first person to ever get drunk and mess about. Before him, alcohol and drinking was a serious and melancholy affair. He was the first man to put a traffic cone on his head and the inventor of being sick in a pint glass.
Before my dad people never had fun when they were drunk, they just did that thing you do where you're sitting in a pub after four or five pints, not really listening to anyone, wondering what the point in your existence is and whether or not you should smash your glass on the table and cut your wrists open right then and there. He put a stop to most of that on the fateful day when he got up on the table, pulled down his trousers and shouted "Barmaid, get yer tits out!".