YOU drank too much last night. That goes without saying. But was that the sun coming up you remember, or was that radiance the eternal inferno of the underworld?
When you woke and crawled to the kitchen to chug two pints of water, what did you see?
A. Nothing. Just the kitchen. And my prick of a neighbour mowing his lawn which is perfect when you’ve got a throbbing head.
B. The kitchen, but somehow not? As if it was lit by distant orange flames, and the gurgle of water seemed to say ‘you are damned’ over and over again? Also your prick of a neighbour was mowing his lawn.
When you lay down heavily on the couch to watch The Simpsons, what happened?
A. Nothing untoward. I mean it wasn’t a good early one or anything, but you coped.
B. Something was up with the TV’s colour balance, because it was all tinted red? And the title sequence was the whole family falling into hell and being graphically tortured, which seemed unfamiliar. And it was that terrible Wife Swap episode with Ricky Gervais.
When you summed up the courage to check your phone, what messages had you received?
A. None. Which is honestly more worrying than loads. Whatever you did must have been really, really bad.
B. A torrent of messages, many from unfamiliar numbers or people you had thought were dead, detailing what a loathsome worm you are and how badly you’ve hurt those you care about.
What does the sky look like outside?
A. No way are you opening the curtains, not with this head.
B. No way are you opening the curtains, but there’s this sort of.. evil light coming through the gap? And you can hear constant screaming. Not happy screaming.
You are still alive, which on the one hand means at some stage you’ll need to leave the house for Lucozade and a massive bag of Doritos, but you will be able to have another drink later.
You are dead. Welcome to Hell.