After a night of whiskey chasers, fishbowls of rum punch and vodka slammers, I woke this morning, took a 2-hour bath in asses' milk and was just about to powder my nose in the ornate, gem-encrusted Louis Quatorze hand-mirror when I saw this terrifying vision. Not my face reflected in the mirror, but the ugly face of my uncouth maid, Basil. This was so disturbing I had to take an ice-bath and lay down in a darkened room for 3 hours. The sound of my vomiting was like a lorryload of coal being delivered. I've never had an hallucination in my life, before now, and I frequently pop Valium like they're a tube of Smarties, and follow it up by marijuana marmite on toast for breakfast.