Scotch at noon

She's got a day off and she's excited about it.

"I'm going to be so lazy," she promises. "I'm having the longest lie-in. You know what I don't have to do? I don't have to work."

She gets drunk on the freedom.

"I could have scotch at noon," she promises rashly.

"You want scotch at noon?" I ask, concerned as I am the only possessor of scotch in the building.

"Don't be silly," she says to my relief. "I'm going to sleep in way past noon!"

I hate drunks

I don't mind tipsy people. Or merry people.

I don't mind people who enjoy a glass or two of wine with dinner.

I actively seek out the company of people who appreciate the virtues of a good whiskey.

I don't mind people who go out for a few pints once or twice a week.

I DO mind people who have destructive drinking habits, who cause rows or violence when drunk, who fail to accept that their drinking is problematic, who end up in A+E with self-inflicted injuries, who drink unhealthy volumes on an almost daily basis, often on their own.

I mind the arguments and hurt they cause, the vomit they produce, their unreasonability, the stink of alcohol on their breath, their red, rolling eyes, their slurred speech, their failure to see the harm their dysfunctional drinking causes.

If we were starting over with our drug laws, we'd probably ban alcohol. Which from my point of view would be sad, because I genuinely do appreciate a good whiskey, a fresh artisan beer, a carefully distilled gin, a finely matured wine.

But I think I'd actually accept prohibition of alcohol if I could be sure it would rid our world of 100% of arsehole drunks. It wouldn't of course, because prohibition doesn't work.

So I guess we're stuck with the drunks and their fucking up. Presumably they're all someones sons (or daughters.) Probably they were all decent skins once before their drinking got out of hand. Or maybe not.

I don't care. They're a pain in the arse and they are conduits of misery, spreading it like a cold in November among everyone else.

I fucking hate drunks.