Sunday December 16 - The Office Xmas Bash

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been 11 months, 15 days and 18 hours since my last drink.

15 DAYS AND SIX HOURS TO GO!

Went to the office Christmas bash last night. Unlike the office parties of sitcoms - which are surely the only office parties to be held in the office - this one took place in a great pub called the Blackburne Arms, near Liverpool city centre.

At the start of the year, I would have cited the works Christmas bash as one of the drinking highlights of any given year. It is right up there in the Holy Trinity of binge drinking: weddings, stag nights, works xmas do.

However, as I've said previously, I feel so elated at being so close to achieving my year-long goal that nothing really daunts me right now. What's two more weeks of sobriety after 11 and a half months?

My mood was lifted even further on Saturday morning, as we put up the Christmas decorations. In previous years, this traditional Saturday morning chore would usually end in tears as I would struggle to fit a seven-foot tree into a Nissan Micra while sweating Guinness and kebab through every pore, including my eyeballs, then disagree with Gem over the correct way to fix the lights (I say wind them round, she says drape and zig zag).

But on the back of a sober night's sleep, we had the job done sans aggro in less than two hours. Moreover, as soon as the decs were up, it reminded me of the house last December, when I first took this stupid vow. They are a visual reminder that the cycle is almost complete.

On that mind set, the office do was a doddle. Yes, it was a long shift - 7.30pm to 3.30am by my watch. Yes, it was a total sickener that Radio City had laid on yet another free bar, which I could exploit to nothing more than a booze-free Becks (which ran out by 9pm) or sparkling water. Yes, it was slightly embarrassing being forced to dance to Celine Dion's I Know My Heart Will Go On by a slightly woozy lady from Sales. And, yes, perhaps I would have had the nerve to join in the various dance offs or even the Hokey Cokey with a bit of Dutch courage.

But was it a trial? Not at all. I had great fun watching my colleagues get slowly bladdered and - in no particular order - puke in the yard, fall over, show off their party knickers, make spazzy faces behind each other's backs and generally bitch, backstab, gossip, confess, leer, letch, flirt and occasionally grope their way into the small hours. It was ace fun.

I actually do feel slightly hungover today. Probably due to the lack of sleep but maybe because it is impossible to be around so much drunkenness without at least some of it seeping in through the skin. But even so, I still reckon I'll have the brightest eyes and bushiest tail in the tower tomorrow, by some distance.