My liver hurts, alcohol is forcing its way through pores in my skin and I can't find the paracetamol. Such are the hazards of binging on booze at this time of year. And it's not my fault either. Organisations and people have conspired to make me consume so much.

During this libationary period, one can instantly feel the upsurge with the completion of the first drink, from which point you enter the third circle of hell where only the binge drinkers go to receive their punishment.

Part of that punishment is to be reminded the next day, by both verbal and pictorial means, of the previous night's attempts to sing songs while pointing simultaneously at a 14" screen and all the while pretending to yourself that the group of associates facing you hang on your every note. Some refer to this activity by its old Japanese name, karaoke.

In this third circle of hell, your fellow debaucherers may follow you in the corridor and tease by singing the Gerry & the Pacemakers classic hit "You'll never walk alone".

The opportunity to leave the third circle of hell and enter the fourth is provided by highstreet retail stores called Fopp. This den of iniquity for the avaricious gave my debit card 32.99 lashes.

I may still enter the sixth circle tomorrow where the slothful are punished for doing nothing at work all day.

tags:circles of hell

Published by Colm.