TONIGHT photographers will be prowling to catch shameful scenes of pissed-up Britain showing its knickers and urinating publicly. But how can you do this at home?
Wear distressingly little
Women should be in lime-green bandages criss-crossed around purple, goosebumped flesh. Men should be shirtless and roaring. Do all this in the kitchen while the children play a boardgame. Neck the Stellas.
Shout
Turn music up – any aggressively generic dance mix of awful pop will do – to maximum and holler above it. Make swearwords that extra bit louder and spittle-flecked. Enter enmity easily. Inform the f**king neighbours they can get the f**king filth round if they want, you do not give a f**k.
Hire a photographer
It takes a real snapper to capture those moments when your eyes are half-closed, your top’s transparent from the flash and you’re climbing a curb with your tongue out. He needs no moral standards, extreme misanthropy and a big Nikon. There’s loads of them, just look online.
Get mortal
You have finished work for as much as a whole week. It is your responsibility as an adult and a Christian to commemorate this by shotgunniung most of your festive stash. This is also approximately bedtime for the kids, which will be achieved by slurred threats and staggering.
Get a kebab
No catalogue of drunken depravity equalling St Mary Street, Cardiff can be complete without blind-hammered attempts to eat vile food. Whether oven chips, a disintegrating air-fried kebab or a pizza box you repeatedly drop, pick up and eat, these make the best shots. Keep a fag in your mouth and pose outside your own downstairs toilet for best effect.
Get the Daily Mail tomorrow morning and tut
Wake up on your own soiled sofa, vomit in the kitchen sink and pop out for a Mail. A double-page spread of you feeding onion rings to your dog, pissing behind the Christmas tree and sprawling, laughing, at the foot of your stairs with your fanny out will be inside. Shake your head sadly.
