Just as there are different types of hangover (gin = frisky, red wine = migrainous, brandy = diabolical, etc), so there are different ways of dealing with them. Sometimes you must be cruel to be kind. A bracing run around the block first thing followed by a cold shower is the sharp slap your metabolism needs. Sometimes you have to take a purely medicinal approach: Alka-Seltzer, Berocca, milk thistle, bacon and such. Over Christmas, you will need all of these approaches, for Christmas is when all your hangovers come at once and one social occasion bleeds into another. With a little self-knowledge, however, you can negotiate even the most ornate 11.00am negroni sbagliato hangover with finesse.

Steamed-up windows, East 17 on the stereo, a sudden feeling of Dickensian bonhomie among your mates? You return from the bar with a round of mulled wine and you are soon in a ruddy-cheeked fug. You wake up feeling deathly. Remember, mulled wine is low-grade red wine plus a ton of sugar.

The remedy: begin the next day with a Berocca and Alka-Seltzer XS highball.

You will over-drink to get through the dinner bit. You will learn an interesting piece of gossip about a rival that softens you up for a tequila slammer round. You will say something ill-advised to Alex in accounts. You will wake up feeling as if a pig has defecated in your head.

The remedy: Pret miso soup and a lunchtime run.

You’re still technically at work, but you have miraculously managed to clear all your deadlines, bought last-minute gifts and it’s only 11.31am. Result. Time to hit the pub for a farewell-to-work pint. You are so elated, you opt for something stronger and before you know it, it’s become an all-day-all-night session. You are drinking negronis.

The remedy: a lie-in, an elaborate Bloody Mary and a full English with plenty of ketchup.

You have made it to whichever part of the country your parents call home. You and your mates meet up at the Queen’s Head. After a couple of pints of trippy IPA, you realise you’re inexplicably smashed. Before long, you’re ordering Smirnoff Ices.

The remedy: behave like a sullen teenager all day.

It’s Christmas Eve. Your parents have invited all the neighbours over for at least 16 iterations of the “So, where are you working now?” conversation. On the plus side, sausage rolls. On the minus side, there is more mulled wine (necessary to get you through the evening).

The remedy: sausage rolls. The following morning? Hair of the dog. It’s Christmas!

This is the only day of the year when it’s acceptable to drink at breakfast. This helps with the hangover, but also means that a Buck’s Fizz headache begins to form at 10.30am, or possibly even earlier if you’re sharing the house with small children.

The remedy: a pre-lunch sherry.

You pushed on into Christmas evening after you persuaded your dad to open that bottle of single malt you bought him. The next morning, you feel dreadful. And not exactly elated that now, the other side of the family must be entertained with reheated versions of the same food.

The remedy: ease off slightly. Aim to consume 20 per cent less than yesterday.

By this point, you are utterly fed up of your family, so you hatch a plan to meet your friends at the pub. But it’s like a twitch at this point. You find yourself necking far more than you intended.

The remedy: get creative. Think spa day, something soupy or eggy for tea, a costume drama.

On the precise day you vow to give up and join a monastery, an old university friend has selfishly decided to get married. The venue was cheaper on 28 December. Great. Another full day of mandatory drinking and a hangover exacerbated by unpredictable mealtimes.

The remedy: stick to just the one type of alcohol – and sweat off the worst at the wedding disco.

Your beloved friend who moved abroad is unexpectedly back for a few days and the only time you could both do was 30 December. It begins in such a civilised way. It ends in absolute carnage. On New Year’s Eve itself, as everyone is gearing up for the big one, all you want to do is crawl under your duvet.

The remedy: crawl under your duvet.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to wake up clear-headed at the start of a new year? Fresh and completely unsullied? Yes, in theory, it would. But that’s just not you, is it?

The remedy: do not even attempt to enact resolutions. Spend your hangover with the people you got drunk with. Preferably on a sofa.

The second day of January is, as a general rule, appalling. All of the hangovers you have been putting off come in once multi-headed beast. You can run, but you cannot hide.

The remedy: write out some resolutions. Own your pain. Use it to catapult yourself into the driest of Januaries. Even if you only keep it up until next Tuesday.