The curse of the working classes

By midnight he had drunk himself into a stupor and was wondering why he had not done so earlier. He felt very relaxed and kept forgetting who he was. Which was good.

He went to the bathroom, relieved himself, staggered back to the bedroom and collapsed on to the eiderdown. His brain felt emptier than it had done at any other time in the past few months. The thought occurred to him that he could become an alcoholic. And at this precise moment it seemed a not unreasonable solution to his problems.

Mark Haddon, A Spot of Bother