A lot of money and imagination has been expended on finding the perfect hangover cure: IV drips; glutathione supplements; smearing oneself in mint. Anecdotal experience vies with professional advice: “hair of the dog (drinking more alcohol) does not help”, the NHS website states definitively. (I imagine this said with a chastising furrowing of the brow.)

Really, we all know the perfect hangover cure. It doesn’t involve anything intravenous, costs £5 and is easily accessible: The Full English Breakfast. Or perhaps more accurately, the All Day Breakfast (affectionately abbreviated to ADB) because any breakfast that isn’t served after 11am is hardly better than useless. What if one only crawled into bed at 9am?

However it appears on the menu, the breakfast has to abide by certain edicts. It must be hearty. It must have a revitalising slow rise of steam – like thermal springs in Nordic countries – but not be so hot as to be mouth-burning. It must be some combination of eggs, beans, hash browns (non-negotiable), toast, and for the non-vegetarians, sausages, bacon. Not black pudding, which should be illegal (I have a petition; I’ll send you the link).

Some eateries have introduced “artisan” options, which often include avocado (it has the texture of the final sliver of a bar of soap: you’re all mad). Sometimes halloumi and spinach are involved, which I will allow. But the basics are best. Beans should be overflowing to the point of almost dribbling down one’s shirtsleeves; the excess mopped up with toast. Butter should be served warm, so it melts into the bread as liquid gold. It should not come as cold as a mortuary slab.

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Breakfasts should be advertised on a plastic swinging board, blocking half the pavement, outside a traditional greasy spoon. They should not be served on a slice of wood. The price should be rounded to the whole pound. Five pounds, or six, or seven, but never £6.65. This is not in the spirit of the hangover breakfast, when one is fishing out change from a pocket of jeans just thrown on and basic mathematics is beyond a still gin-soaked brain.

The hangover breakfast comes with a risk. An unsettled stomach can creep on. The face becomes clammy, while the triangles of toast transform into unclimbable peaks. I recommend sips of builders’ tea, rather than the heart-shaking addition of coffee. And water, lots of it. If all goes according to plan, the hangover breakfast is a reversal of a day’s fortunes. Just hold the black pudding.