Stay all evening.

You enjoy yourself thoroughly in the company of your fellow post-theatre drinkers, and time just seems to fly by. Eventually, though, the bartender rings a bell and announces, "last orders".

Remembering the trick pulled by the opera regulars, your somewhat alcohol-fuddled mind realises that if you were to leave the pub first you'd get dibs on any taxis plying the road outside.

A little more shakily than you were expecting, you rise to your feet, put on your coat, open the door, step outside and walk five paces.

That's when the cold night air suddenly hits you and you pass out in a crumpled heap onto a wall.

Regain consciousness a few minutes later.