18 bottles.
 

18 bottles of whisky were down in my cellar, and I was told by my wife to empty the contents of every single one down the sink, or else. I said I would, and proceeded with the unpleasant task.

I unscrewed the cap off of the first bottle and poured the contents away, with the exception of one glass which I drank.
I unscrewed the cap off of the second bottle and did likewise with it, again save for one glass which I drank.
I then turned the cap off of the third bottle and poured the whisky down the sink which I drank.
I then unscrewed the cap from the fourth bottle down the sink and poured the bottle down the glass which I drank.

I then unscrewed the bottle from the cap of the next one and drank one sink out of it and threw the rest down the glass.
I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cap down the bottle.
Then I screwed the sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the pour.
When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one hand, counted the glasses, caps, bottles and sinks with the other hand, which numbered 29, and as the house came around again, I counted them again until I finally got all the houses in one bottle which I drank.

I'm not under the affluence of incohol as some trimble peep I am.
I'm not half as thunk as you might drink.
I fool so feelish, I don't know who is me, and the drunker I stand here, the longer I get.
Tere womes the hife, oh me!