fuck dry january

We’ve all got that one annoying mate who decides when January comes around that a month off the sauce is somehow going to cleanse their souls and turn them into a health goddess. I get it, I really do. We all overdo it on the pigs in blankets over Christmas and come out the other side of December with slightly more padding than we intended to. We all chug 14 bottles of wine a day in the name of everything that’s festive. We all feel rotten as fuck after spending £3,529 on a G&T down the local NYE party and we most defo all feel the pain of the marathon wait for January pay day. But if you think that 30 days on the wagon – and on your high moral horse – is going to cleanse you of those xmas toxins you are fuckin barmy. Continue reading “fuck dry january”