Hangovers : God's Inhumanity to Man.

It is widely believed that God lets hangovers occur because he wants us to know he doesn't love us.
I don't think that's right though, and my view is this :
Hangovers are Satan's way of being spiteful. Pure and simple.
Why shouldn't we be permitted to enjoy a few beers without being felled to the ground in a headache-ridden, nauseated, photophobic, writhing heap?



HM Govt says  "Sir! Leave the rest of that pint!
Otherwise you might drink
more than your designated number of units."

HM Govt jumps on the bandwagon with its idiotic recommended limit of 21 units of drink per week, which figure it plucked at random out of the seven-times-table for ease of dividing by the no of days in a week. It does not constitute enough to keep a fly alive in my opinion. Women are only allowed 14 units. This cruel edict i) is sexist and ii) confirms my theory about the 7 times table. What are people like me who don't like non-alcoholic drinks supposed to do? Die of thirst?
Who says hangovers are caused by drinking anyway? I find the allocation of them totally arbitrary. Some days I wake up with an awful hangover even though I had (next to) nothing to drink the previous day, while at other times I can drink an appalling amount, yet get off scot-free without a twinge of pain to show for it.

If hangovers aren't wrought by Satan Prince of Darkness then why do we have them? What might Darwin's thoughts be on this? That hangovers evolved, to prevent us from overdoing it? It isn't working, is it? We still overdo it, and that on a regular basis. This is not how evolution is supposed to function. Evolution is supposed to lead us down a path BENEFICIAL to the species.
 

If God made hangovers, to try to stop us drinking, I have to say this is a FAILED INITIATIVE. Here is why. Picture the scene:

A convivial evening down at the White Horse. Merriment galore in progress.

Greg says "Another pint, Mel?"

Hangover pixie says "Mel! NO! Think of the hangover you will have tomorrow a.m."

Does Mel say "No thanks Greg, better not. It might give me a headache in 10 hours' time"?

NO she most certainly does not. She is PERFECTLY willing to risk a little minor discomfort in 10 hours' time. What do you think she is - some sort of WIMP?

She says "Yes Greg! Yes PLEASE!" and she tells Hangover Pixie to go away.

The next a.m. Hangover Pixie says "I told you so!"

Everyone hates Hangover Pixie.

 

The reason that the initiative has failed is that the consequence is too remote from the action. It would require a heart of FLINT not to carry on boozing on a lively night just because tomorrow your headache might (only might, note) be a bit worse than it's going to be anyway. 

Hangovers are a malicious, pointless invention and I do not accept that God could have made them. He made nasty spiders, squirrels etc but these are necessary because they have their place in some food chain or other. Hangovers fulfil no such mitigating purpose and as such, only a MALEVOLENT God would inflict them. I reject the idea of God's being malevolent.  He made Beethoven and honeysuckle and long-tailed tits and the heavens and I defy you to explain how he could make them and then hangovers. It just does not add up.



There he is, the swine! Hangover Pixie.
Why should he have all the fun?

 

Yes; we all know who is really to blame, don't we? It's Hangover Pixie. And everyone hates him, don't they?
Yes! Everyone hates Hangover Pixie.

Hangover Pixie is one of the Names of Satan.


 

Perils of Fecklessness

Hard Work for Our Lady

Our son has just had the worst journey in the history of journeys, because he suddenly had to get to Spiddal in West Galway for the Traidphicnic, which is a music festival.



Travel Safety Information
issued to all Carroll children when leaving the country.

The unexpected nature of the trip meant he was even iller-prepared than he usually is for such excursions so there was bound to be trouble. Our recent advertisement for a nanny to look after him had met with no response. All I could do was stand ready to give him a lift to the railway station, and print him out a new set of my Travel Safety instructions. His old copy had been long lost with his wallet on a previous outing. My children delight in frightening me by prancing about near the edge of any precipice they encounter, and need to be constantly reminded not to.

We set off for the station fully 5 minutes later than the latest time I had said we MUST leave before. In the car he searched his luggage and pockets with mounting alarm while I recited the litany "Have you got your phone charger passport tickets wallet violin" (the violin was the reason for the trip as he had found out that Martin Hayes was going to be giving tuition at the festival and Martin Hayes Tuition is not to be missed out on at any cost). 2 vital items were not present namely phone and violin so we had to return home for the phone. The violin was at his friend Steve's house.

When we had retrieved the phone, he made calls to arrange for Steve's gf to bring the violin to the railway station, thus saving precious critical seconds.

We had an agonising time on the road getting stuck behind tractors, herds of cyclists, and old folk doing zero mph, and during which the magic traffic light converter which is under the bonnet of all cars I have ever owned and causes green lights to turn red as you approach, was working FAULTLESSLY. It only fails when you are dawdling along without a responsibility in the world and care nothing for waiting at red lights. We reached the station, Henry leapt out and went to the ticket machine and I followed with the world's heaviest rucksack, and Henry's 2nd best violin in case Steve's gf didn't make it.

As we ran to the platform Henry was knocking old ladies to this side and that, crying out "Sorry Madam, I do apologise. It is essential that I board that train" and scattering belongings in his wake, but he still missed the train, by 0.5 attoseconds.

The furore caused by the attempt on the train came to the attention of the station staff who were REALLY KIND! YES! This was surprising but it helped enormously to salve the wound. The platform official who had waved the heedless train off without Henry aboard asked him where he needed to get to, and told us to go to the ticket office to be given a new route. The staff on the ticket barrier were sympathetic and opened special gates to let us through. The ticket office man, despairing at first but then merely doubtful, found a new train route which in theory should get him to his ferry on time but involved a connection time of hardly any attoseconds for changing trains at Crewe. He did not want Henry to risk it, but since Martin Hayes was at stake there was no choice in the matter.

There was an hour to wait till the new train departure time, and we told the ticket barrier people we were going to nip out for a while. They didn't like the sound of that and made us promise to get back in good time.

We positively AMBLED back in with a good 15 mins to spare and those barrier people were very relieved to see us. They led us to their secret staff lift so that Henry didn't have to carry his rucksack up the stairs, and made sure we went to the right platform. This time he caught the train.

Later well here's a transcript of the text messages that passed between us.

HENRY : Dear ma train left birmingham stop on time. Mad 4 it. Bally rollercoaster ride is what it is. X

ME : Dear Hen Thanx 4 txt. Am on tenterhoox about yr connection at crewe i have asked the BVM 2 get on the case 4 u. Hope yr journey goes ok, don't leave yr violin on train, ferry, coach, edge.

HENRY : Tis unbelievable! Just pulling in to Crewe on time and we've stopped short of the platform due to an incident somewhere in the station! They won't let me off the train.

ME : NO! Perhaps the train u need 2 catch will be delayed 2 by the incident. I hope so. Come ON Blessed Virgin Mary, do yr best 4 me lovely boy. Lv mum x

HENRY : Aye, c'mon our lady. Y'will, gwarn. Still not letting us off. I'm tempted to use fire axe. So are all else concerned.

ME : Oh dear it makes me WEEP. GO 4 IT! RIOT with that fire axe. Lv mum x

HENRY : "They are searching the station, this may take some time, all services delayed til search carried out, as soon as I have further information I shall let you know". In England we say sorry.

HENRY : "Complimentary teas coffees or waters are available from the onboard shop" well thanks a bally lot.

 

ME : How mean they are. They should at least give you CLARET

HENRY : Dear ma thanks b 2 our lady! On board the train to Holyhead! But she knows how to make u appreciate it!

ME : Oh i thank the Lord and the Blessed Virgin 4 getting u on that train.

HENRY : They won't let it leave the station 4 some reason but the ferry doesn't leave til 2.30 so its grand. Hurrah.

ME : Absolute nightmare the whole thing. Lv mum x

HENRY : Just set off, expek ari time @ holymotherhead 1.45 so should be fine 4 ferry.

HENRY : Train terminated at Chester, they've put us in taxi instead, ferry 'might' wait 4 us.

HENRY : Dear ma im on the ferry but it wasn't easy! Crammed in back of sweaty taxi with 7 others for hours.

ME : U have had our Holy Mother working hard so u have. I hope there will be no further mishaps. Keep away from edge. Lv mum x

Then messages ceased.
 

Poor Our Lady! What a night.



Our Lady retiring to take a well-earned rest.

Later I heard the phone had been lost presumed stolen on the coach from Dublin to Galway. Actually it didn't work properly anyway so the thief will be justly disappointed.

 

BUT, despite the complications brought about by being too late to catch his intended train, Henry did reach the Traidphicnic and got his tuition from Martin Hayes.

From this saga we learn the following :
If you are going to be feckless you must make sure to have the Queen of Heaven on your side.  

 

Martin Hayes playing the violin
instead of getting along to the barber's for a haircut.