Ah. My worst one ever was after a night in Birmingham at an industry awards evening. I was adamant that I'd stuck to wine all evening so couldn't understand why I felt so bad. Until I saw pictures of myself the next day drinking sambuca from the bottle :-(
When I finally woke up (with no memoery of getting back to the hotel from the lCC) I was not only still fully dressed but also wearing my shoes. The TV was on and somehow I still had my handbag with me.
I dragged myself into the shower and just stood there for ages. I looked like death and it was hurting like hell to dry my hair. I soldiered on until it was time to put make up on. Only to find that I couldn't because every pore on my face was in pain.
On the train from New Street to Piccadilly I had to throw up out of the open door when the tain stopped at Stoke then hid in the toilets for the rest of the journey.
Not my finest hour although I was apparently the life and soul of the event the night before :-)
