Evil brews

You were out last night. You had a good time. In fact, you had a fucking ace time! The beer and good humour flowed freely, the place was swinging, the people were beautiful, all your mates were there.

But now it's the morning after. Ohhhhh nooooo.... Your head feels like it's been extruded through a beer pump. Your limbs ache all over with the slightest movement. From the lower end of the duvet erupts the first of many Guinnessy farts to shatter the peace and kill all the birds in the trees (an act which is no loss to your state of mind, seeing as the noisy bastards are making your head quake).

Never mind the minor ailments. The vital question in any hangover situation is: can you remember how you got that way? If the answer is yes, the memories might be painful enough to have you shrivelling up with embarrassment. But amnesia could prompt a whole series of fresh questions:

Ade Rixon.