Five reasons school night hangovers are worse than weekend hangovers

WEEKEND hangovers are bad enough, but they’ve got nothing on ones during the working week. Here’s why you’ll regret getting shitfaced on a school night.

You need to get up early

Weekend hangovers gift you the luxury of time. You don’t even need to stumble to the bathroom while making empty promises about never drinking again if that’s your usual feeble coping strategy. Not so during the week. You have to snooze your alarm eight times as usual, have a tactical puke, then pretend to be a normal human being by nine o’clock.

They don’t warrant a sickie

Sure, you could phone in sick, but you know it would be a lie. You don’t have an actual illness, you just had a pint or three too many and you’re not in your 20s anymore. Plus you made the stupid mistake of sharing pictures of yourself having a good time in the pub on social media, somewhat undermining your usual flimsy excuse about having a migraine.

It’s always a nasty surprise

You always know when a weekend hangover is coming. It’s usually around the time the eighth pint is plonked in front of you. School night hangovers on the other hand creep up on you. You may have only had three drinks, but you didn’t line your stomach and your tolerance is at a weekly low. Your mistakes will feel obvious in a few hours when you try to commute while feeling like you’re dying.

You have to look productive

Sitting at your desk mindlessly clicking between tabs sounds like a piece of piss. And when you’re sober, it is. If you’re hungover though then it feels like you’re trying to steer a ship in rough seas. Just pray you don’t have a meeting because listening to colleagues drone on about Q2 projections will be even more agonising with extreme, possibly justified, paranoia about puking in the waste paper bin.

They risk ruining your weekend drinking

School night hangovers run the risk of lasting into the evening and ruining your chances of getting properly hammered at the weekend. Can you face the grim prospect of enduring trips to IKEA or your in-laws completely sober because you got carried away in the week? No. Drink responsibly by saving shots and pitchers until Friday afternoon at the earliest.

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Six branded foods that are better than the cheap version whatever tight bastards say

SOME foods are worth the 15p price difference which separates the delicious from the inedible. Here are the ones whose cheapo version can never match up.


From the markup on Rice Krispies you’d be justified in thinking they’re made with powdered gold. However it’s still better to go without than sit at the breakfast table staring confusedly at the unidentifiable cartoon creature on the box of ‘rice-based puffs’. What’s it supposed to be? And why does it appear to be judging you for your decision to eat three bowls in succession?

Tins without ring-pulls 

Tins without easy-open lids lure you into thinking you’ve grabbed a bargain. That’s until you can’t find your tin opener, and once you do it’s so rusted and decrepit you’re forced to savage the can with a knife and try not to slash a tendon, all for the meagre reward of some sweaty peach slices. 

Salt and vinegar crisps 

Some claim that store brand crisps are made in the same factory as the real thing, but bear in mind Dow Chemicals made face creams and napalm. In own-brand crisps the salt and vinegar flavour frequently appears to have been replaced with hydrochloric acid flavour capable of burning a hole through the human tongue. It’s surprising they’re not sold in lead-lined packets. 


No matter how much you shake an off-brand bottle of what can only be termed ‘red sauce’, it remains in its separate states of thick pulp and translucent tomato piss which spurts out of the squeezy bottle like something from a porn video, drenching your cheese on toast and sometimes your lap. Don’t allow it to absorb topically or it might give you hives. 


Purveyors of knock-off Nutella appear to have missed the operative word ‘nut’ and have instead opted to serve up a bland paste which tastes as if it once made eye contact with some chocolate at a party 15 years ago.  Other versions go for full-on gritty,  because who doesn’t want to have the inside of their mouth thoroughly exfoliated during breakfast? 


No matter how exorbitant the sugar tax on it gets, it’s difficult to leave the security of branded Coca-Cola for the carbonated mire that is the ‘cola’ aisle. The only similarity between the two is that they’re brown, and the no-brand version has the unusual feature of tasting like it’s already been in someone else’s mouth. Maybe a coincidence, maybe part of the manufacturing process.