Londoners Magazine

I went to a film screening on Saturday night. A film that I, or at least, my late band, wrote the theme tune for.

The film’s called the Viva Voce Virus. I’m not really sure what it was about although a place called Gay Andy’s and some lesbian vampires seemed to feature quite heavily. My lack of understanding may be because I’m unfamiliar with the gay roadtrip genre but it’s more likely that I’d partaken too heavily of the free sparkly before the film started.

Thinking back, I was already a tiny bit tiddlypops when I arrived at the cinema due to drinking at my pal’s birthday bbq prior to show time.

And I’d gone to the bbq straight from a boozey lunch with the boss of my former record label.

Come to think of it, I’d actually woken with a hangover, so I guess I was just topping up my toxins.

Reader, I’m having a week off booze. Starting TODAY. Seriously.

I don’t want to incur the wrath of Morag and her drunken blog but I have started to fear for my insides. I have given up booze before now, once for Lent and once because my kidneys were beating a frenzied tattoo against my back and I thought I’d do them a month’s kindness. Also, I’d behaved like a twat of such magnitude on one terrible evening of which we will never speak again, that I shamed myself into a little time off.

It was utterly tedious.

The trouble with boozing is, it’s bloody brilliant. I have done some things I’ve regretted when three sheets to the wind, mostly men, but I’ve also had some of the best times of my life. The little drink demon who says: “Ok, you can come back but this time you’re sleeping on the sofa,” is also the demon who says: “We’re driving to Florida!” And goes through with it.

However, I’m going to shun booze at band practice, my friend’s birthday boat trip, and the studio opening I’m going to where the alcohol will be free.

I’m going to enjoy quality sleep, alone, be white of eye, pink of lip (rather than purple stained from wine excess) and fresh of thought.

I’m going to be rather smug and perhaps a touch patronising all week. And next Tuesday I’m going to tell you all about my sober week. Breakfast martini clutched in shaking hand.