Ouch. Please go away. I - oooh - I think I overdid it a little last night, if you know what I mean.

New Year's Eve the cocktails were going down a treat I remember dancing on the table falling off the table belching the tune to Abba's Happy New Year, and - oh no, it's all coming back now.

So you'll understand if I feel a little worse for wear. My head is thumping, my tongue is furry, my throat is parched, my nerves are jangling and I'm sweating all over.

I swear I'm never going to touch another drop. No, this time I really, really mean it. But before I embark on my new life of temperance and virtue I need a hangover cure, and I need one now.

Everyone has their favourite tonic, ranging from the simple pint of water to the Puerto Rican method of rubbing a half-lemon into the armpit of the drinking arm' (ladies, avoid this if you've just shaved your underarms).

In Scotland we used to swear by the restorative properties of the national drink, Irn Bru, and it's said that in the Middle Ages the shrewd drinker of mead would down a plateful of almonds and dried eel after a night of excess at the local tavern.

But which is just myth and which is the quickest way to relief?

Perhaps I should first ask myself exactly why my body is punishing me. Of course, of course, it's because I deserve it, but what exactly is going on inside?

First of all, my mouth feels like the Sahara because the alcohol has dehydrated me by forcing the evaporation of much of my body's water content. Removing the toxins from my bloodstream is - how can I put this? - a water-intensive process.

Next, the fall of a pin sounds like a redwood crashing to the ground because I'm suffering from nervous shock. A hangover means you're shaking off a mild overdose of a depressant drug (for alcohol, let us not forget, is a drug). This puts my nerves into a hypersensitive state when my senses start to return. So will you please not rustle this newspaper quite so loudly? Thank you.

Thirdly, I am malnourished. Strange to think that this could happen after just one night, but the fact is my binge means vital vitamins and nutrients have been flushed away that would normally stimulate natural defence systems.

This is too much detail to take in. Just how do I go about curing all these symptoms?

I have coffee close to hand, of course. Will that help? Well, on one hand a couple of cups will reduce the swelling of blood vessels in my brain and so ease my headache. But it will also dehydrate me even further. I think I'll start with a couple of pints of water. Mineral water is best because its alkaline nature will combat the acids swirling in my irritated stomach.

Some certifiable people swear by the power of exercise to cure the hangover. Fit people not only metabolise alcohol faster and enjoy a smoother flow of oxygen to the brain, but a jog round the park will also help to sweat out those toxins.

That's too much like hard work. I think I'll sweat the toxins out in a hot bath instead, perhaps with a Bloody Mary on the side. The cocktail's tomato juice will help to replace lost nutrients, and the alcohol in the vodka will help to numb the pain.

I think I have some Vitamin C tablets somewhere, sent by my anxious mother and never touched. They should help my liver to detoxify the blood - but don't try to get it from real oranges - their acidity won't go down well.

But when rooting around your cupboard, don't go popping every comforting-looking pill. Paracetamol can be toxic to your liver after drinking heavily, and aspirin can irritate the stomach. A round of multivitamins instead will help restore the lost niacin, calcium, magnesium and potassium.

And every household should contain charcoal tablets for these emergencies - they speed the removal of congeners (additives that cause toxic effects) - but munching on some cabbage may be just as effective.

It's too late now, but perhaps I should have avoided those uncongenial congeners last night. Those coloured drinks - red wine, whiskys, dark rum - were a bad idea. I should have stuck to vodka, white wine or iced bottled beer. A pre-binge glass of milk would have lined my stomach, and a bit of oily food would have helped.

But of course, as I said, I'm never going to touch another drop. Until the next time, that is.

Perhaps I'll greet 2002 by mixing up the Assyrian Paste hangover cure: one teaspoon of ground swallow's beak blended with one teaspoon of myrrh. Wash down with water. Enjoy.

December 31, 2001 11:00