I hit the ground hard. It was dark and I was freezing. Somehow I'd fallen. Or rather, I'd landed on an aluminium ladder. But it was pitch black, and for some reason I thought I'd been in a huge building, with lights at the far end.

And that's when I realised. I was at home. In the middle of the night, I'd just fallen out of the loft, and I didn't have a stitch on.

A couple of days ago I had a letter from my doctors telling me I had an abnormal result for my liver test, and that I'd have to go and give a sample of blood to have a second opinion. Naturally I took this to mean that the NHS had probably lost my test results, but just in case some stern faced doctor told me that I'd have to quit drinking from now on, I decided I'd have one or two on Friday night.

So, I had a few glasses of cider. And then a few more. Karen was away, so apart from the boys, there was nobody to tell me to watch it. It didn't really matter, did it? I wasn't going to get into a state... And I was angry, too. I mean, I hardly ever drink at all, except when I'm in Skipton. How dare I have liver problems? It's so unjust... And so I had another cider, while I still could.

Erm... At some point I'd gone to bed. I distinctly remember getting undressed and calling it a night. I also remember opening the “other” bottle of cider, although I can't remember whether that was before or after I'd gone to bed.

The details are vague. After midnight I was back up in the loft, working on autopilot. I'd got out of bed and fired up the computer but I hadn't got dressed. I remember the other cider bottle was with me at the time.

And I was emailing the world. I've had one of those Oh-my-god experiences when you look back at what you've done and think “Who the hell was working me?” Checking back over my history from that night is just one litany of embarrassment.

I 'd contacted school bullies on Friends Reunited, asking them what their problem had been. I'd contacted girls who I'd had secret crushes on, except now that I look I notice that I've sent the messages to the wrong people! Yeah. Nice going.

I left messages posted on blogs, by turn insulting and fawning. Really, what WAS I on?

I vaguely remember knocking the piano keyboard over. The stand is bent out of shape. I have a gash on my arm, although I have no idea whether that came about through wrecking the piano or tumbling out of the loft hatch.

Oh yeah, that. I've checked out that drop in the cold light of day and all I can say is that I'm lucky to still be alive to write about all this stupidity.

Yes, it's funny, but it's also scary. I didn't hurt anyone. I didn't get into a fight, but I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. It was only the shock of hitting the ground that made me realise I was even awake.

“Matt would understand”, I'd said. Like who the hell is Matt????

I can take a joke as much as the next man, but this has really shaken me up. I'm embarrassed and I'm cross at myself. Mister Hyde may well have a lot of fun playing these games, but it's poor old Doctor Jeckyl that has to pick up the pieces the next day.

This doesn't happen very often. Maybe only once every four or five years or so, but I really don't like the person I turn into when I've had many too many. Which means I've got some serious thinking to do.

So, for anyone who I insulted, annoyed or otherwise embarrassed on Friday; I'm sorry. If I asked you to marry me; I didn't mean it. If I bought anything; I can't afford it, and if I promised anything; I'll never keep it. I have no idea how I managed to even TYPE, but there you go. The mystery of possession

I really, really wasn't myself. Although exactly who I was is a mystery I hope never to uncover.

I was sat in church this morning and I was hearing a lot about true repentance. I'd love to say I'll never drink again. Right now the very idea turns my stomach. I'm not ready for a religious conversion, but at the end of the day I think I'm going to have to give up either alcohol or the internet. At least until I can learn to use them both like a grown up should.