8 May, 2016. 11:45
ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
DESPITE NOT KNOWING what happened after 10pm, a local journalist says he has a fair idea after looking at himself in the mirror.
Stained with red wine with a hole burnt through the armpit, 26-year-old sports writer Alex Dewhurst said it must’ve been fun, but he doesn’t really remember anything.
“Thank Jesus, Allah and the Jewish one that my phone went flat,” he said.
“Otherwise, the PPA (post-piss anxiety) would be way worse. There should be an app that locks you out after the fourth bottle of red,”
“I feel like I’m going to die today.”
And die he will, because it’s Mother’s Day today – different to every other Sunday where he can just writhe around in bed and eat bacon sandwiches.
Today he’ll be keeping his back to the wall while barely related family members tell him that his life is going to shit and he should try to find a real job before he’s the only one left without a chair when the music stops.
While he admits that it’s going to be a big day, he laments the fact that he’s actually got to do some real work before he goes to sleep tonight.
“I think I’m still a bit pissed. I can taste how bad my breath must be,” he said.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it was pillaged in one,”
“I feel like Rome now, ransacked by my own ignorance.”
The Advocate planned for a longer piece but Mr Dewhurst dragged a sun chair into the shower and presumedly vomited on himself repeatedly while under the gentle stream of warm water.
