Monday January 15 - Desperation Arrives

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been fourteen days, nineteen hours and one minute since my last drink.

I want a drink. I need a drink. I deserve a drink.

The post-Christmas honeymoon - when it actually felt quite pleasant to take a rest from booze - is officially over. Not only is the honeymoon over, but the bride and groom are getting divorced after she caught him joining the Mile High Club on the flight home. With an air steward.

I have worked the last eight days in a row, during which time I have reported on the funeral of a young girl killed by a dog, the sentencing of a man who kidnapped and raped a teenage girl, and four kids whose dad was murdered two months after their mum died.
I also had to loiter for several hours outside Kylie Minogue's hotel in Manchester yesterday, just in case she wanted to pop down and give me an exclusive interview about the illness which forced her to postpone some gigs. She didn't, strangely enough.

I now get one day off before throwing myself into another extended period of murder, death, mayhem and misery. And occasional loitering. If that isn't an excuse to shove my head in a bucket of beer, then I don't know what is. Apart from actually suffering any of those horrible things myself, obviously.

Like many people, I use alcohol as a fast track to relaxation at the end of a stressful week. A good session in the pub feels like one of those fancy shower gel adverts: I wash away my worries using a foaming formula of herbal extracts (Guinness), mild detergent (vodka), and gentle exfoliants (peanuts).

So what the hell am I supposed to do to relax now? Take up yoga? Light one of those scented candles that women tend to give each other for Christmas? Actually bathe in alcohol, but make sure none goes in my mouth?

Nah. Think I'll go and knock back shots of Ribena until the sugar rush kicks in, then use an episode of Celebrity Big Brother as my downer.

See. Who said tee-totalism* can't be fun?

(* Yes, thanks to all of you who gleefully pointed out that I had been misspelling it as tea-totalism. I admit the error but think my spelling makes a lot more sense. Ie, a tea-totaller can only drink tea, not booze. Tee-totalism sounds like you have to play lots of golf, but who am I to argue with the English language?)