Tonight, Matthew, I will be mainly pished.

Aha.

The end of the working day is nigh. Eventide awaits as doth ye pubbe; I shall march in smartly, slam a few shiny shillings on the counter and demand of yon stout yeoman, a pint of his finest frothing ale.

Or at least the usual gravy they sell.

Provided that I am capable of movement at closing time, I shall then attempt to get home without hitting the kebab house where, admittedly, they do make a surprisingly edible when pissed brown rubber thing with onions in cardboard. Insrtead, I shall try and remember to make sure I have some choccy digestigves and a pint of ice cold milk ready before collapsing for a spot of the old dreamless.

A few years ago I tried to get round the panicky post birthday late wake up by goiung to bed fully clothed. After 10 pints of Stella and uncounted Southern Comforts it seemed reasonable.

Woe was me. When I awoke, my clothes were fine but I needed ironing.

Tonight will be different. Tonight I shall have everything in place for an early if unwelcome return to work. Curse Parliamentary democracy, curse it and all its workings.

Of course, I doubt it will work like that.

Don't be surprised if there's an (even more) incoherent ramble posted up here later. I won't.

Tonight, Matthew, I will be mainly pished.

Aha.

The end of the working day is nigh. Eventide awaits as doth ye pubbe; I shall march in smartly, slam a few shiny shillings on the counter and demand of yon stout yeoman, a pint of his finest frothing ale.

Or at least the usual gravy they sell.

Provided that I am capable of movement at closing time, I shall then attempt to get home without hitting the kebab house where, admittedly, they do make a surprisingly edible when pissed brown rubber thing with onions in cardboard. Insrtead, I shall try and remember to make sure I have some choccy digestigves and a pint of ice cold milk ready before collapsing for a spot of the old dreamless.

A few years ago I tried to get round the panicky post birthday late wake up by goiung to bed fully clothed. After 10 pints of Stella and uncounted Southern Comforts it seemed reasonable.

Woe was me. When I awoke, my clothes were fine but I needed ironing.

Tonight will be different. Tonight I shall have everything in place for an early if unwelcome return to work. Curse Parliamentary democracy, curse it and all its workings.

Of course, I doubt it will work like that.

Don't be surprised if there's an (even more) incoherent ramble posted up here later. I won't.