I should leave off drinking on an empty stomach. Not in the lunch hour, anyway. Now I'm hardly pissed at all but I've got a splitting headache. Rattling over the roundabout I get the smell of myself, of what I've been drinking. It's like having two rugby players, big ones, catch you in mid air and tackle you to the ground. I look at my hand because it feels funny, and all I can see are the bones. Lucky I'm left handed. There's a guy curled up on the tarmac with glass all around him. Has anyone called an ambulance?
