Last night I'd been playing poker. But it had been a friendly game and I wasn't getting any good cards (except when I got KK and ran into a pair of pocket aces) and so concentrated mainly on drinking. Even though that afternoon I had been thinking how much I was looking forward to a life of sobriety. But once I got a few glasses of Pimms down me I had remembered why drinking is so ace and thinking it would make me terribly boring to give it up and I went on through champagne and an almondy liqueur. And I think I pretty much proved that being pissed does not help you get better at poker as the only mistakes I made came at the end of the night and cost me ten pounds!

But when I finally woke up today I remembered why it was probably a good reason to call a temporary halt to my indulgence. I had what I hope might be my last hangover for a good while (I am not planning to have a big one on New Year's Eve and in fact have no plans at all for the moment. I think I will just stay in - at least I won't be able to watch myself on the Jools Holland Hootenanny as I did one year, because I am no longer invited to that gig!). And it's a Saturday, so it doesn't matter too much, but it's a shame to waste a day, sitting in a fug and getting nothing at all done. I was meant to be going to an afternoon party, but I couldn't face it. What kind of life is this? I can't wait til the dry new year where this will no longer be a problem and when I won't ever get the sensation of that sweet, sweet liquor trickling down my throat, giving me the confidence to talk to people and chat up women. In 2008 I might have to go back to writing poems and posting them through people's doors and then, when they like them, just walking around, holding their hand, saying nothing, until they get bored and go out with a proper boozer instead. Which will drive me back to my lifelong mistress.

But it's nice to pretend for the moment that I might never drink again. Maybe I will just meet someone who likes boring men. Or I can be like Anthony Hopkins in 84 Charing Cross Road and just write to someone and never meet them... until one day I decide to chance my arm.... yes, let's not start quoting my own old sketches. I know it's Christmas, but still. And I am not doing anything while I am writing this, so shut up.

By about 10pm I was almost back to normal and even got a little work done, before watching part of the awful and emotionally manipulative film "Love Actually" and getting very emotionally manipulated by it. And laughing quite a lot. There must be something wrong with me at the moment. I much prefer it when I can keep my emotions in check and I hate the world, don't you?

No more booze.

You know after the 31st.

Ever!

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