This is when you suddenly become an expert on every subject in the known universe. You know you know everything and you want to pass on your knowledge to anyone who will listen. At this stage you are always right. And, of course, the person you are talking to is very wrong. This makes for an interesting argument when both parties are CLEVER.

This is when you realise that you are the most ATTRACTIVE person in the entire bar and that everyone fancies you. You can go up to a perfect stranger knowing that they fancy you and really want to talk to you. Bear in mind that you are still CLEVER, so you can talk to this person about any subject under the sun.

This is when you suddenly become the RICHEST person in the room. You can buy drinks for the entire bar because you have a bottomless wallet. You can also make bets at this stage because of course you are still CLEVER so, naturally, you will always win. Anyway, it doesn't matter how much you bet because you are RICH. You will also buy drinks for everyone that you fancy, in the knowledge that you are clearly the most ATTRACTIVE person present.

You are now ready to pick fights with anyone and everyone, especially those with whom you have been betting or arguing. This is because you are now INVINCIBLE. At this point you can also go up to the partners of the people who you fancy and challenge them to a battle of wits or strength. You have no fear of losing this battle, because as well as being INVINCIBLE you are CLEVER, you're RICH and you're more ATTRACTIVE than them anyway.

This is the final stage of drunkenness. At this point you can do anything, because you are now INVISIBLE. You can dance on a table to impress the people who you fancy because the rest of the people in the room cannot see you. You can also snog the face off them for the same reason. You are also INVISIBLE to the people who want to fight you. You can walk through the street singing at the top of your lungs because no one can see or hear you and because you're still CLEVER you know all the words.

As you regain consciousness and begin to enjoy the headache, the churning stomach and the cold sweats, you realise that you have lost not only several hours of your life but also the ability to concentrate on anything whatsoever. You are now STUPID and will remain so for a minimum of 12 hours.

Never entirely happy with the effects of the bathroom mirror first thing you are horrified to discover that you have now become even UGLIER than you previously thought possible. Not only have you got bloodshot eyes and a glorious collection of spots but you are shaking so much that your grandfather probably looks healthier. Unfortunately you are still too STUPID to know better than to try and shave whilst shaking.

Having crawled out of bed and got dressed you are about to shamble out the door when you discover that the money that was to last you the week is now missing from your wallet. Being STUPID, you have no idea what happened to it but the traces of curry on your clothes allow the possibility that you might have treated everyone to a takeaway at somepoint. Alternatively your pocket could have been picked or you might have given the taxi driver a fifty pound note by mistake. Rationalising that you couldn't possibly have been that STUPID and that you would remember being robbed, you come to believe that you were the only one who bought any food or drinks all night and start to loathe all your friends.

As you are now STUPID, UGLY and POOR, your consequently FRAGILE self-esteem plummets. Your already FRAGILE physical condition ensures that you feel liable to shatter if anyone even speaks to you.

This is the final stage of sobering up. Unfortunately, everyone can spot this CONSPICUOUS condition and its cause from a great distance. Even worse, they know that they can complete your misery by making fun of you, and that you are too STUPID to retaliate, too FRAGILE to hit them, too POOR to bribe them and too UGLY to hide.

No pain. No real feeling of illness. You slept in your own bed and when you woke up there were no traffic cones in there with you. You are still able to function relatively well on the energy stored up from all those vodka Redbulls. However, you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara. Even vegetarians are craving a Cheeseburger and side of fries.

No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a stapler. The coffee you hug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full English breakfast. Although you have a nice demeanour about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is some light filing, followed by aimlessly surfing the net and writing junk e-mails.

Slight headache. Stomach feels crap. You are definitely a space cadet and not so productive. Anytime a girl or lad walks by you gag because her perfume / aftershave reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer kicked you out at 3:45 a.m. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen doughnuts and a litre of coke watching daytime TV. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 2 Sausage Rolls and a litre of diet coke yet you haven't peed once.

You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might throw up. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but you smell of socks, and you can't hide the fact that you either missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving or it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the dodgems (depending on your gender). Your teeth have their own individual sweaters. Your eyes look like one big vein and your hairstyle makes you look like a reject from the second-grade class picture circa 1976. You would give a weeks pay for one of the following; Home time, a doughnut and somewhere to be alone or a time machine so you could go back and NOT have gone out the night before. You scare small children in the street just by walking past them.

You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits next to you. Vodka vapour is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. You'd cry but that would take the last of the moisture left in your body. Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog just died because you look so pathetic. You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is breathe......very gently.

You arrive home and climb into bed. Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi. You get about 2 hours sleep until the noises inside your head wake you up. You notice that you bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around the room. No matter what you do you now, you're going to chuck. You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht under full sail. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls & knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet. If you are lucky you will remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode and wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls. You sit there on the floor in your undies, cuddling the only friend in the world you have left (the toilet), randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, spitting, and farting. Help usually comes at this stage, even if it is short lived. Tears stream down your face and your abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and he/she usually goes back to bed leaving you there in the dark. With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15-minute intervals, but your body won't relent. You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear that you saw your tonsils projectile out your mouth on the last occasion. It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to climb into bed. She /He abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair. You reluctantly accept their advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital. Work is not an option. The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving. You vow never to touch a drop again and who knows for the next two or three hours at least you might even succeed.