I get it.

You’re out with the lads and you’re having a great time. You’ve been on the bevs for most of the afternoon and now the evening. The night is creeping in. You haven’t eaten in hours.

You catch the last bus home and even though your sense of timing for public transport is spot on, by the time you reach your destination your favourite takeaway is closed.

Curses, you think, why must they shut this early? Don’t they want my business? Don’t they want my £2.50 for a bag of chips (or whatever your regional financial equivalent is – we all know rubbish London pounds are)?

Left with no option but to raid the cupboards, your choices are slim. The freezer is practically empty too because you’re due a food shop tomorrow. It’s time to face facts; waiting over two hours for a McDelivery isn’t going to help anything. You’re already whammed and you need something to soak up the alcohol.

It’s time to do something drastic.

It’s time to open that tin youve been saving for an emergency.

You wake up the next day with a thick, brown, meaty rim around your lips and you have no idea how it got there.