The Carnage UK experience has no beginning, middle or end. It could have started when you thought of going; when you bought your ticket; when you got off the bus - and ended when you got home; when you sobered up; or when you had finally got rid of the sexually transmitted disease you caught as a consequence.

I speak from personal experience that I don't intend to repeat, but I feel generalization is justifiable.

We had been dancing for an indeterminable amount of time, amongst seething sweating bodies in various states of undress, when the cocktail of drink and drugs I had consumed - to get into the spirit of the occasion - really began to take hold.

"I'm feeling light-headed," I gasped to Mel, my flat mate and fellow student. And suddenly there was a huge roar that overwhelmed my senses, and I was terrified that I was under attack from giant obese naked pink rats which might smother me. Great God! What was that terrible garbled sound?

Things suddenly went back to normal, though my heart took a little longer. Carnage UK has been voted "UK's no 1 national student event" for the past four years. I hoped that I could manage to stay focused enough to write a report on it for the student rag, despite the fact that we were both really twisted already.

Around us, the party was in full swing, many of the women were staggering around and tanked up men were attempting to chat them up, viewing their abandon with the alco-pops as being indicative that they were available for pretty much anything else. Some of the women flirted, often feigning that they were lesbians, and at the same time tried to suggest that they could look after themselves by swearing regularly and laughing amongst themselves as if the whole thing was nothing but a game - which was near enough the truth.

The national media had recently run a scandalized expose of how British students regularly binge drink and how we are encouraged to by alcohol promotional nights such as the "Double Vision" night at Liverpool University. Carnage UK had faced accusations that they were a disgraceful part of this drinking culture. That would explain the disclaimer on the website, stressing that we must drink safely. What a joke! With a name like Carnage, clearly we are supposed to get completely wrecked.

What kind of fascist state do they propose where your personality is dictated to you and you can't even go wild and make a fool of yourself! They have no right to tell us to be moderate with alcohol, use condoms or think of our reputation. Reputation? Talk about living in the past! Getting a bad reputation is cool! We're all on the same level in here, no inhibitions, no limits. The kill-joys are repressed, bitterly remaining on the outside and unable to understand how to really enjoy themselves. It's people like them who have nothing better to do than start wars and oppress minorities. The world would be a better place if everyone just chilled out and had a good time.

Mel was now embroiled in a violent melee. An obese blonde with a Playboy T-shirt and matching tattoo, just at the top of her monumental bum - which her shirt didn't cover, had grabbed Mel by the hair and was giving her a kicking. It seemed to be over the bloke Mel had just been talking to. I felt dizzy, and the floor was suddenly slippery with spilt beer, so I fell. Then the slut tripped over me with a howl and released her grip on her quarry. A clearing formed around us enjoying the impromptu entertainment as one of the doormen pushed his way through. He put an arm around Mel, taking her to get some medical help, while appearing to be making a security check down her cleavage. She would be enjoying that, knowing what she's like. I headed for the bar. Some guy I vaguely recognized offered to buy me a drink and I accepted, telling him I would be sitting nearby. Somehow I ended up leaving with him, but my memory of what happened is hazy. Woke up the next morning at his place...