Now that I’m officially almost nearly going to soon be old I have noticed my body slowing down for its inevitable descent into death.
A few days short of my 25th birthday and suddenly hangovers are much worse.
Te seventeen year old me used to pride itself on the vast and copious amounts of Heineken export and whiskey it could cram into its bloodstream before falling over or puking.
My drinking had calmed down immeasurably in the last couple of years, and apart from a few gig beers and occasional drinks after, and a few cans of lager at home, and sometimes some wine, I hardly drink.
So after going out last night or a couple of after work beers with fellow comedian mr Simon Douglass from 5pm until around 11, I am shocked, horrified and disgusted to find that today I feel slightly like someone has replaced my brain with a slightly rotting sandwich.
I used to head to work in the morning still drunk after another night out, usually the fifth ion the trot.
Actually, in could never have been usually the fifth, for being the fifth on the trot means that there were four preceding, and they’re would be more of these lower numbers unless EVERY night I went out for a drink I followed it with four more nights so there are just as may fifth nights out for a drink.
Which wasn’t the case.
Whereas today I really feel awful, the drink has fried half my brain.
More importantly was the fact that I was lagging at an early stage last night, a few pints in and I quite fancied a kip. and Simon is older that me, he must have some kind of mid life crisis or something.
All most peculiar.