The Hangover

I woke up in my own bed, not in another country.
I didn't wake up with a Mike Tyson-style face tattoo and there's no tiger in my bathroom - the bathroom's barely large enough for me to turn around in, let alone swing a cat of any variety.
There will be no hilarious capers as I struggle to try and piece together the events of yesterday.
I remember everything; it was uneventful.
That conversation in the Chinese takeaway was odd though.
A full English, a big poo, a nap and maybe a pint or two later are all I need.