The entire planet is today joining together in a chorus of declarations that they are never drinking again following hectic St. Patrick’s Day celebrations yesterday.
One man who arrived into work “hungover to fuck” has promised friends that he is “never touching a drop again” after having an especially heavy weekend of boozing and partying.
Dermot Collins claims that he went out on Friday night with friends for “one or two” and crawled home in the early hours of Wednesday only to wake up for work at 8am with no money, no memory and a bubblegum-flavoured, cheap condom still encasing his shriveled penis.
“I’m just never going to drink again,” he explained while shielding his red-rimmed eyes from the light of the halogen office lights and avoiding making direct eye contact with anyone. “I can’t actually look at people today, certainly not in the eye. I know I more than likely didn’t see anyone from the office over the weekend but their friendly smiles and chirpy questions are making me feel guilty.”
“Although I’m pretty sure everyone in the office was out for Paddy’s Day so if we all pool our collective hangovers we’ll probably make it through the day,” he added.
“It’s a kind of vague non-specific sort of guilt,” claimed one London woman who partied with Irish friends from the early morning of St. Patricks Day. “Like I drunkenly barged into someone’s bedroom, pulled down my pants and took a shit on their floor as they smiled understandingly and cleaned up my mess while quietly reassuring me that it was okay, as if I was a naughty but lovable pet.”
“I don’t even remember much of what happened. I’m afraid to look at who I might have called,” she continued cradling her phone in a shaky hand. “I caught a glimpse of my messages this morning and I’m pretty sure I made fifteen calls to a guy I know who used to sell drugs about four years ago because there’s a text from him simply saying ‘No matter how many times you call me, the answer will still be the same. I have no drugs. Fuck off.’ The ‘fuck off’ was all caps so I think he was especially pissed off.”
“The scariest thing is not that I woke up with a condom still on my dick,” added Dermot between mouthfuls of tea. “We’ve all been there, right? I mean, sure it was scary when I almost turned the condom into a water balloon taking a piss this morning but the really scary thing is that I don’t even remember having sex. Or buying condoms. Particularly bubble-gum flavoured ones. I don’t even like bubblegum.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure out whoever it was,” claimed Dermot. “Usually when this happens the person will text or ring or I’ll have a flashback on Wednesday. I just hope it’s not a guy, or anyone related to me. Again.”
Friends of Dermot are quick to pour cold water onto his plans to give up drinking with co-worker, Paul James, claiming “he says this every Monday. It’s bollocks. There’s more likelihood of Christ returning to Earth, blowing your penis to climax and then cleaning up the mess with his hair than there is for Dermot to not be in this exact situation next week.”
“Of course we’re not giving up drinking,” assured another colleague. “We all say that every week but what are we actually going to do instead? Go to the theatre, take an art class? Not likely. This isn’t actually the worst we’ve been, at least this morning most of the staff were reasonably clean and hadn’t woken up in a field covered in piss. If that can’t make him stop, then nothing can.”
Drinking a Lemsip and Googling “alcohol poisoning” Dermot assured everyone that his plans to live a clean lifestyle aren’t unfounded and that despite whatever Facebook invites he receives he’ll reject them. “I’m definitely, definitely, not going out or drinking any alcohol next week. Definitely,” he restated. “Well I’ll see how I feel on Thursday but more than likely, I’ll be living like a hermit for at least the next week. Or I might just have a bottle of wine or two at home, but no going out.”
He’s a good looking guy but after seeing that I find the notion of sex with him laughably unlikely, and I have very low standards.