I socked away a prodigious amount of spirits over a 30-year period that ended a few months before my 49th birthday. Unlike Amis I wasn't one for cocktails. I preferred shots and beers, a plebeian combination, but unfailingly effective. I rarely had hangovers, though among the few I did have were some that were preternaturally awful. I had never thought, as Amis apparently did, that Kafka's Metamorphosis might be a metaphor for a hangover, but it seems plausible.
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