In Bournemouth my boss's boss argued with and then tipped a member of his staff out of his chair and then chucked a pint over him. This normally very reserved gentleman then stormed out of the hotel bar shouting "and don't bother speaking to me tomorrow you fucking cunt". I was impressed.

equation: senior civil servants + junior civil servants + alcohol + forced 'friendliness' = pre-prandial team building wrecking exercise.

I liberated the following items from my room at the very posh hotel:
this months Elle magazine *
this months Red magazine
this months National Geographic magazine
spa therapy bathroom products from Gilchrist & Soames
the Independent newspaper
some shortbread
a pen

I can recommend the private dining rooms and the Dorset lamb, the 1994 Shiraz, the views from the roof, the cumberland breakfast sausage, the cliff-top gardens and the in-room playstation 2's.

* Great article on how 'natural' cellulite is and how even some celebrities suffer from it! Followed by 230 pages featuring models with NO cellulite.