Late 70s at Suffolk's premier strike base - airfield BLACK under snow, target study & sims all up to date and only so much Uckers a man can take! One of the sqn navs had recently been admitted to RAF(H) Ely with recurrence of an old back problem, so a push was organised to visit/bring cheer/scope out the nurses. A team eventually struggled through the slush in a J2 (that's another saga!) and arrived at Ely. Somebody hid in the middle of the group with the slab of McEwans concealed under a coat as we were directed to a 2-bed room where our colleague was in traction to try to ease his discomfort. Having been involved in some MT engineering on the journey, I popped out for 5 minutes to scrub the hands, and returned to find a great party in full swing, with everyone clutching tinnies, the traction weights replaced with 2 cans of McEwans, the bedside radio at full volume and healthy banter flying in all directions. Even the occupant of the second bed, a tall youth who also had a bad back (admin officer at the same base, but nobody had ever seen him before - consensus was that he'd damaged his back hunched over a desk all day) had been given a can, but was left to drink it on his own as we listened to our mate's (frankly unbelievable) tales of suffering at the hands of drunken medics.
No-one paid much attention when the tall kid in the other bed got up unsteadily, staggered to the door and slurred that he was "going for a p*ss", before exiting wearing only his paper Y-fronts. Until, that is, the door was flung open and the ward sister stormed in, looked at the empty bed, looked at us and the empties and stormed out again (briefly). She came back dragging the giggling wreck of the kid from the next bed, still in his paper trolleys, shoved him into bed again and then read us the riot act. She was only just over 5ft tall (still is, I saw her the other weekend), but it was one of the best collective bollockings I ever heard in 35 years! Basically, the beer the kid had consumed had reacted badly with his medication and we were all totally irresponsible, disgraceful conduct, etc, now clear up this mess and get off my ward...great stuff, exit junta slightly abashed with empties clanking, traction weights replaced.
After we'd gone, our colleague was given the third degree to find out why he hadn't reacted to the beer like his cellmate, because he was on pretty much the same medication. It turned out that he had been carefully washing his painkillers down the sink so that he could enjoy the "lemonade " being smuggled in during nefarious evening visits - oh, there was a lot of trouble.....how we laughed!