LAST night was a heavy one. But are these overwhelming feelings of pain, sickness and despair you’re feeling alcohol-induced, or have you awoken in the Lancashire town of Burnley? Take our test to find out…
Take a look around you. What do you see?
A) It’s blurry and smells of vomit for some reason, but I think my bedroom. I hope.
B) Is Angela’s Ashes a place? But, like, it closed decades ago? Because that’s where I am.
You nip out to the shop for Lucozade. How does that go?
A) Okay. Muhammad laughed at me when I walked into the shop but he tends to do that when I’m hurting.
B) The shop was closed because it was a Saturday morning. When I knocked on the glass an elderly ogre came out bearing a trident, asking what did I want of him? They’d never heard of Lucozade but could do me a sarsaparilla.
You decide to have a quick curer in the local. What happens?
A) Everyone left me alone thankfully, and after a couple of pints and a fag I was right as rain.
B) Everyone went silent the moment I went in. Then they began talking about Brexit and how it would cure all ailments and even regrow missing limbs. Then a man threatened to kill me.
Mostly A’s – Don’t worry, me ole mucker. It’s just a hangover. Go home, sleep it off and wake up later and watch Match of the Day 2 and enjoy a Pot Noodle.
Mostly B’s – Sorry to say this but you’re in Burnley. Luckily gaps in the rain are so infrequent they’ll never get that wicker man lit soon and you could be able to escape.