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Drunk and bloated by 12pm: your body’s Christmas Day journey

CHRISTMAS Day isn’t about joy and merriment for your body. It’s a punishing marathon of overindulgence it barely survives. Here’s what it goes through: 

6am: Sugar high

Woken by kids at 5am, you’re eating Celebrations within the hour to sum up the necessary energy to pretend you’re delighted by items from your Amazon wishlist.

7.30am: Sugar slump

The crash has hit and you’re greying out in front of a Julia Donaldson animation. Get alcohol.

8.45am: Tipsy

Running on nervous energy, cracking a bottle has given you the lift needed to start cooking. It goes straight to your head and you’re singing along to Chris Rea.

9.30am: Pissed

The cooking is in full flow. You’re on a boozy high and smashing the shit out of Christmas. You’re a legend.

10am: Hungover

By now your hangover is kicking in. Dinner’s is under control, the kids are busy, and you’re feeling rank. You take your phone to the loo and fall asleep.

10.30am: Hunger

Waking up when your phone hits the floor, you need bacon. But you’re not allowed any pigs-in-blankets. Devour some anyway and get bollocked for doing so.

11.30am: Bloated

Burping and guilty, you sit down for a brief respite just as your family arrive. Time to start drinking again.

12.30pm: Dinner

As you sit down for Christmas dinner you’re exhausted, drunk-yet-hungover, nauseous, bloated-yet-hungry, your heart rate is through the roof and every time you blink, you sleep. Time to stuff your face.

2pm: Meat sweats

Now face the consequences. Your cracker hat is dissolving from sweat, you look like Stilton, and you’ve had to take off your Fitbit because it thinks you’re having a stroke.

3pm: Cramp

Muscle spasms and heartburn could be interpreted as a signal to stop eating Christmas pudding. Ignore them.

4.30pm: Drunk sugar high

As you play boardgames you’re consuming more alcohol, biscuits, and chocolates than would seem possible. Your sugar rush and encroaching drunkeness are perfectly in sync.

6pm: Exhilaration

Your family leave and you revel in the moment. Then you grimly drain your drink and open a box of truffles.

8pm: Coma

You’ve hit maximum consumption. Your body shuts down. Your mind functions on only the most basic level, allowing to enjoy Call The Midwife. 

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Big shot who lives in London swanning around mundane hometown for Christmas

A MAN who lives in London is spending the holidays walking around the town he grew up in as if he is king of it.

Joshua Hudson has been lording it over the locals, making endless snarky comments about crap local shops and how everything is ‘dirt cheap’ compared to ‘down South’, which is not particularly true.

He said: “I only visit once a year because of my busy life in London. Where I live. In London. But nothing here ever changes. I mean, would it kill them to get a khao pad bar?

“I like to show people what they could achieve with a bit of hard work and by moving to London. It’s kind of a public service. Some don’t like it, but I point out my trainers and jeans cost more than they earn in a month. It’s sad to see such small minds.

“They keep asking if I’m ‘still down in that London’. ’Which is so quaint. When I tell them I live in a warehouse in Hackney with seven other people for £1800 rent a month, I can tell they’re really impressed.

“Later I’m planning to drone on about Uber not existing here and then try to order an old fashioned in my parents’ local. All while trying to avoid anyone I went to school with in case they bully me.”

Before leaving Hudson will ask his parents to lend him some cash and discover his old neighbours’ very thick son earns four times more as a plasterer than he does as a marketing ‘executive’.

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