Angry Chimp's 24 hour drinking binge.

I am very drunk. Very drunk indeed.

And here's how I did it.

11.00am I started drinking as soon as the doors opened at 'The Wanked Pig' which is my local tavern.

I drank 3 pints of Old Weasel Juice, followed by a shot of Jack Daniels and a packet of Cheese and Onion Crisps.

12.10pm Got slighted annoyed by a chatter of suited yoofs from the local Ad agency; talking shite about 'copy' and 'market penetration' (without even laughing, I might add) I decided to move on.

12.20pm I entered 'The Hung Pensioner' and ordered a pint of their local brew 'Stained Sheet' (I believe it's from a micro brewery out near Pershore). I then had a ploughman's lunch and a pint of Guinness.

1.00pm After an incident involving a pool cue and an argument over who played Duran Duran in the Vadim movie 'Barbarella' (I said Milo O'Shea, the other chap swore it was David Hemmings) I was forced to leave, despite having a chunk of Cheddar and a pickled onion to get through.

1.23pm After a brief chase with 'Hemmings, Hemmings' being hollered behind me, and then a steady walk I arrive at the doors of a pub I have barely frequented in the past. The Mutilated Child.

I go up to the bar and order a shot of best rum and a pint of Gargled Cum. Delicious, both of them.

I then engage the young blond barmaid in a discussion about the Government's proposed 90 days detention policy. She informs me that they should shoot them, even without charge, 'cause that'd stop 'em coming here in the first place. I ask her who 'they' are. She says darkies. I ask her where she developed such an interesting political outlook. She tells me she got a 2:1 in PPE from Oxford last year.

I finish my drink and leave.

1:51pm I bump into an old friend outside the Red Rag Lion (Formally the 'On the Rag' theme pub). Ali is a young conservative that is backing Cameron over Davies. I order a couple of pints of Speckled Cock and a couple of bags of salted pigs' ears. During our pint, the discussion becomes quite animated - we are after all on opposite sides of the political spectrum. There is some shouting and the table goes over -

"It should be a society for all, not the just the individual."

"Bollocks, individual responsibility is the key to a strong Britain and a resilient attitude in the face of the global threat from terrorism".

As you can see, quite heated. We eventually calm down when we realise that we can't remember who was screaming which policy.

"That's the state of modern politics" Ali concludes, and at that I spat in his face and walked out.

3:01pm It had already started to get dark so I headed for my favourite drinking den, Alfonso's Wine Bar.

Alfonso's has such a warm and vibrant atmosphere, the staff are the best in the business, friendly and convivial, the drinks varied but reasonably priced. You'll often see the intelligentsia of Upper Malvern supping a beverage whilst quoting Thomas, or discussing iambic pentameter and Latvian verse.

It really is the only drinking establishment in this small town that I feel 100% happy in. With great joy I walked up to the sturdy old door, which itself once formed part of the hull of that great British war ship, the African Enslaver.

It was shut, so I went next door to Murdered Immigrant.

I had 3 pints of bitter (Unionist kneecap) washed down with a shot of Old Spice and a small cheese sandwich which the landlord said he'd found 'out back'.

I really don't know what I was talking about in here but once it turned 5:00pm a number of office workers turned up which led to me standing on a table, dropping my trousers and pointing my arse at them.

I only stopped when one of them (my boss Michael Mannerson) asked me where I'd been all day as I hadn't shown up to work and hadn't booked a day off.

I quickly pretended to be from former Yugoslavia and fled the pub.

5:43pm By now I was quite hammered and slightly disappointed that it seemed unlikely I was going to experience a full 24 hours drinking - a new law that was a long time coming.

I walked through the graveyard where I stopped briefly for a slash before passing out on the grave of Lizzie Henley (14) who died of Stephacockaliticus in 1876.

7:23pm I awoke, wiped the sick off my coat, removing as much of it from my hair as possible and continued to walk home.

I shouted as loudly as I could all the way home, announcing to the world that I had indeed been drinking and feared none of society's social constraints on public declarations of utter stupidity.

I also stole some car aerials and swore at any couples that walked past me, asking them what they thought they were looking at.

They mostly kept quiet which prompted me to use a follow question enquiring if they were hard of hearing.

9:21pm. It has so far taken me approximately 2 hours to cover a distance I can manage with 2 miniature dachshunds in 15 mins. But it's a dry night, and the walk was exhilarating. Especially at approximately 8:31pm when a police car pulled up along side me and I was forced to hide behind someone's hedge, partially destroying it in the process.

I must say the Police and Government's plan to measure how successful this 24hr drinking is by the number of arrests they make tonight is an excellent idea. Like seeing how safe it would be to drop a bomb in Sheffield town centre by the number of body parts they pick up afterwards. Inspired - not that anyone would really care, or notice if more bombs were dropped on Sheffield.

9:42pm. Finally arrived home. Safe and sound. Although my right leg is bleeding, my coat is now missing the 'zip on the hood' section, I can't find my wallet and I seem to have no socks on, yet I still have shoes, although I'm fairly certain they aren't my shoes.

I then poured myself a glass of wine and sat down to write this post.

I might go back out in a bit and see if I can do the whole 24hr period, like the time we did when we were students and we were drinking Marty's home brew and playing Streetfighter on my SNES, and then we had a couple of spliff's and Janko thought it would be a great idea to cook absolutely everything in the kitchen into one big pancake.

It's always happy days when you're boozing.