Sat in a pub again

When you spend the formative years of your life with an alcoholic member of your family, you can't help but be aware of the spiraling path of doom your own drink is taking you down.

Because of the clocks going back, I find myself sat in a pub in victoria an hour earlier than I'd like to be.

Fuck that.

I don't want to be sat in a pub. I am because it's the only place that has comfy seats but doesn't have a miserable bitch that says things like, 'These seats are for display purposes,' (take that Marks and Sparks).

I'm also here because my girlfriend's sister decided to crack a shit about me staying at her place (my girlfriend's) too much, at 8 o'clock in the fucking morning. This was about 3 hours after i'd come in and gone to sleep. 3 hours sleep is not enough sleep.

Knowing that my friends were out drinking with me, I knew they wouldn't be awake enough to appreciate a knock on their door (their door, an hour away in the east end) so I decided to try and sleep the rest of the morning off on the circle line.

It's not very comfortable.

And so i find myself in a pub in victoria station, with a 3 pound breakfast in my belly and two hours to kill until the united/liverpool game and another hour after that when my mum is coming into town.

How do I not be the fuck up, pissed son?