1. Food
2. Drink
3. Dance
4. Seek late night food
5. Try to find hotel

We've done it this way forever, and it never changes for a reason - it's the best way possible.

This year's event was managed by Funky, and saw us all converge on Birmingham early in December. Plenty of old faces and most excellently quite a few new appeared and it shaped up to be a great weekend. Through either stellar planning, or just sheer luck, the party took place on the weekend that Birmingham had it's festive Christmas Market on, so even before the evening commenced various TRO reprobates could be found loitering around Mulled Wine stands or sampling half metre Bratwurst in the city centre.

Come 7:30pm we all met at a ludicrously crowded bar and shortly made the 10 metre journey to Woktastic Sushi bar opposite. The challenge of the £12.99 Unlimited Sushi was too much for some, who, drunk on the idea they may make the restaurant regret offering such a deal, promptly ate their body weight in Sushi from the constantly revolving belt.

Full of food and pomp, the procession moved off from here towards the Pitcher and Piano - a small bar with scant room for 30+ idiots and as such most of us remained outside unless queuing for the bar. After enough drinks were absorbed to lubricate further movement we ambled at least 20 metres to the nearest 80s club. Within 25 minutes shapes were being thrown, arms were aloft and a huge dance-off took place for the rest of the evening combined with drinks, pictures, ludicrous hats and even pairs of pants with David Hasslehoff's face on them. None of this of course is untrodden ground to a seasoned TRO attendee.

At around 3:00am various parties started to slope off home leaving only the hardcore elite still present to dance the **** out of the club until the very last song was played. Requests for "one more" fell on deaf DJ ears (it would be a terrible affliction for an actual DJ - to be deaf). The final TRO stragglers left the building, and as is the year on year fashion, began the endless quest for fried chicken goods at 4:00am on a Sunday morning.

After a few hours sleep, the brave headed home straight away and those in requirement of body fuel once again gravitated towards the endless Bratwurst in the German Market.

See you next year!