Ah yes, a couple of Nurofens and a slug of Lemsip and a long hot shower and a bit of a lie down and I'll be fine.
I used to be able to sink six pints with equanimity but now it seems my ageing mortal frame is likely to protest after four, and it wasn't on an empty stomach or mixing the grape and grain or any of those other things your mother warned you about either.
Still, the lights of the South Bank were twinkling, the company (my good friend Dr Al) was convivial and I am unable to answer the missus's 'So what's the news?' question this morning, which means we spent the evening talking about things that really matter like how good Tom Waits's One From The Heart soundtrack is, why Bob Dylan's songs are great but his albums are mostly rubbish and how men never ask for directions when they are lost but women can't tell north from south.
And it's Friday. Have I peaked too soon?
If I stick to the white wine tonight and knock up a half-decent DavyH prawn curry into the bargain then I guess I should make it through. It could be worse.
Mary Gauthier - 'I Drink' (2005)
Aretha Franklin - 'Drinking Again' (1964)
Dean Martin - 'Little Ole Wine Drinker Me' (1967)
Tom Waits - 'The Piano Has Been Drinking (Not Me)' (1976)
[One hour later: that beer's starting to look quite tasty. Good old Lemsip]
beer me.
ReplyDelete4 seems to be the universal limit for the more mature lush.
What I hate most is I've lost my bodily warning system that senses when I'm getting drunk and tells me to slow down. I keep downing the Scotch thinking I'm fine, then - blam! - with no warning I'm shitfaced and have to get some fresh air before I pass out.
ReplyDeleteHope you're feeling better now. I gave up pints for bottled beer years ago because six pints of anything is too much. Doesn't leave any room for a kebab (something I've rarely eaten sober).
ReplyDeleteI bet you're missus is about as sympathetic as mine when you're in that state.
I'm tip-top now readers. Bring it on!
ReplyDeleteShall we have a little disco record later or something? Whaddya reckon?
Pints scramble your brain.
ReplyDeleteMy technique is bottled beer now.
Then Nurofen and Lucozade for a morning after 'straightner'
Always up for a bit of disco or Acid Jazz?
Due to my seemingly life-threatening hangovers, I became known all over the world as the 'Shitting Whippet'.
ReplyDeleteAnyone who has had the pleasure of seeing a whippet (or greyhound) pooing will understand!
Ahem. As I was saying. Some disco perhaps?
ReplyDeleteOh and the bile, did I tell you about the bile ...
ReplyDeleteNo, Dick, do tell. I'll pass the sickbucket to Davy.
ReplyDeleteWell, you'll remember when Pernod was unfeasibly fashionable right? Well, it came to pass that the only thing that separates Pernod from bile, is the trail of indelible blackcurrant that lines the carpet from bed to porcelain... and back ... and back .. every 6 and a half minutes ...ad nauseum ... repeat to fade ...
ReplyDelete