Regrets and cheap wine
In his time, Donal Lynch has had some epic nights out, but the mornings after have been even more memorable - for the wrong reasons
A hangover needn't actually be such a terrible thing. The artist Damien Hirst, whose benders would go on for days, used to insist that the comedown was "the best bit". And, given the right conditions - hugs, tea, decent telly and possibly the company of your fellow debauchees - you can mostly wallow in your own crapness and avoid thoughts of suicide.
Where the absolute horror really begins is when you have to do something the next day. These days, when I am tempted to live for the night, I recall three key activity-heavy hangovers, all of which scarred me, and which may serve as a warning to others.
Gents rehab 1) Dublin, 1999. This was a perfect storm of first work do, a young liver and complete fecklessness. I started early at home, necking gulps of whiskey and Coke, while slathering my head in Dax wax and dousing myself in Jean Paul Gaultier.