The best Christmas party I have been to as a footballer was the first one I had at Newcastle in 2002, when Sir Bobby Robson was manager.
All the players had gone out in fancy dress to the Quayside in the city centre - I was Superman, Carl Cort was Batman and Kieron Dyer was Austin Powers.
Then we found out that the club's directors were having their own party at St James' Park - a black-tie do with their wives.
We decided we would gate-crash it, so we all piled into taxis to the stadium, ran upstairs and burst through the doors.
It was a bit surreal. We were all running about this posh dinner and ball dressed as superheroes, then found Sir Bobby, said "all right, gaffer" and sat at his table. Someone had his pint.
He just looked at us and said: "Right, have one drink and get the hell out of here."
Nobody ever had a go at us for it. Even the next day Sir Bobby just laughed about it and said "you lot are a nightmare".