1. The Ersatz Hour: the first giddy hour of waking when the hangover doesn’t exist and you think maybe this time you’ve cracked the e=mc2 atomic formula for consequence-free drinking. You thank your lucky stars. You consider a run later, maybe whipping up a tagine? Why not - you feel FANTASTIC. The world is your oyster, your bloody Blockbuster video store
2. DCP // Part 1: You start to feel a little sweaty. Something in your stomach squirms - ants are crawling in your bowels. The Deep Cleansing Poo is calling. There’s a small twinge in your head. Could that be the first tremors of a headache? Surely not. Ants become more urgent. You notice a faint whiff of tequila in the air. That can’t be you, you don’t drink tequila. You move yourself to the loo, prop your elbows up on your knees, stare into space and let the movement take you
3. DCP // Part 2 [Full Throttle]: about five minutes into the DCP your original euphoria has completely subsided and given way to a deep deep foreboding. The hangover begins to press down on your fragile cranium. Questions begin to swarm - who’s this text from? Perhaps there was a tequila shot or two? Did you tell Lisa’s boyfriend about the sixth toe she had removed as a kid?
4. Memory Lane: oh fuck here come the flashbacks. Your brain has made a lovely slideshow for you - a reel of all last night’s best bits. Slowly the whole things starts to unfold in horrifying detail. You sit on the sofa, eyes glazed, mouth open in a silent scream. No sustenance or entertainment can soothe the dumpster fire of pain, regret, embarrassment and tequila that is being cooked up as a nightmare soup inside you
5. Second Wind Shandy: You manage to get a small amount of carbs and fats flowing round your system. Ten minutes later you’re perking up. The hangover has removed your inhibitions, relaxed you. You’re suddenly being very very funny - regaling a giggling sofa of friends with tales from the evening, acting out sword fights and bouncer tussles. You wonder whether you might in fact be the most charismatic person to ever grace a dower, rainy Sunday with your presence. There’s talk of a small hobble to the pub - plans for a restorative shandy or two. You are possessed with a renewed sense of possibility as laughter bubbles up amongst the group and bad memories are cast aside in favour of getting your shoes on and whirling out into the world again
6. 4pm Existential Meltdown - You are a trainer in the washing machine of life, hitting the sides over and over again. You see death in the sink as you wash up your cup. You have a fervent desire to be composted slowly into the earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Everything has lost its meaning, it’s colour. A strong urge to be in small, dark womb-like spaces grips you
7. Born-Again Christian: you adopt the chaste and staid manner of a man graced with an ancient religious understanding of the world. You sit upright on the edge of the sofa, quietly folding your laundry and tutting at the loose morals and materialistic preoccupations of the reality stars screeching at you from the tv. Such transient matters no longer concern you - you have given up drinking and plan to dedicate your life to the pursuit of spiritual enrichment, eschewing all corporeal needs. You wonder whether the world is ready for the new you as you get a Facebook invite to a party next Saturday
Written by Jess Bird, illustrated by Percy Preston