A night on the tiles is a colloquial Australian term for a hard night's drinking, inevitably resulting in a severe hangover.

The term is derived from the traditional hard-wearing, easy-to-hose-down floor surface in rough Aussie pubs, and the similar surface of one's toilet at home.

You might overhear in the office on a Friday morning, "fark, mate, you look like you've had a night on the tiles".

NB: this statement, if ever directed at you by an Aussie workmate, should be taken as a compliment (many Aussies admire a piss artist.)

Contrary to simonc's writeup, 'a night on the tiles' is not limited specifically to Australian slang. It is used in (and most likely originates from) the United Kingdom as well, and in both places the meaning is pretty much the same.

'A night on the tiles' means a big night out; most likely the original term can be traced back to when the entertainment consisted of going to the local dancehall and doing the Lambeth Walk to a band on the tiles of the dancefloor. Of course, this was in the days when five hundred pounds would buy you a terraced house with enough left over for a large family dinner. As times changed however, the term simply came to mean a big night out, regardless of any dancing activity, and often leaving a disco tan the next day. 'A night on the tiles' can also be used as an adjective to describe someone's appearance; "A night on the tiles, eh mate?" may be said to someone who's look a bit morning after-ish.
A Night On The Tiles is also the second song off Disco Inferno's 1994 three track Rough Trade Records single It's A Kid's World. This song, as well as the title track proved that Disco Inferno had an infectious sense of humour that was not limited to irony and sarcasm in the lyrics. This is one of the few Disco Inferno songs that is free of Ian Crause's firmly spoken English vocals, and the only lyrics in the song is a looping sample of Edith Piaf's opening two lines from the classic 'Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien' (Specifically, "Non, rien de rien, Non, je ne regrette rien").

After running through the loop of Edith twice, singles by herself by a couple of bars, then is matched by a sound effect that would best be suited to a drunk stumbling around in a 1930's film and some shuffling percussive noises. Think a wobble board falling on piano strings. It is of course somehow produced Rob Whatley's electronic drumkit while Crause backs up with some subtle sythesizer noises. This continues for a few bars while what sounds like a boozy game of darts becomes audible in the background, and then is replaced by a loop from a big band performing a fast paced swing-style song. Other samples start to come in and out of the song - running footsteps, smashing glass, police sirens and the Piaf sample comes back into the mix. Shortly the whole song is a cacophony of noises heard underneath the big band, before it all tapers off with the fading siren. Probably the silliest thing Disco Inferno ever did, but enjoyable and engaging nonetheless.

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