h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

This particular cure does not really involve anything chemical; no drinks or special remedies that some bloke next to you told you about.
I find, and this is in extreme cases of hangover suffering and not just a mild head ache and upset tummy, that the porcelain rim of a toilet seat offers strange psychological comfort.
Your head is burning up and sweat is pouring out and you know that if you move too quickly you are going to see what you ate last night in reverse... but then the rim offers itself. Trust me, there's nothing quite like the cold rim of the toilet seat to rest your head on.
I think it is the combined effects of the cool surface, the proximity to somewhere you'd rather not run to in case of emergency, and the sublime effectiveness of the sound of dripping water somewhere near by.
The second you take your head away from the rim the link is lost and you revert to how you were, so for all intents and purposes this does not cure anything in the long run. Still, it acts as a refuge whilst you can gather your thoughts.

It's also a safe place. You know if you move away you *will* be sick. But not until you move away. So for a while you are safe. But you'll have to move away *eventually* and then...

Hmmm indeed - it sounds like this could be called Schrodinger's Toilet Theory: one is both sick and not sick until action is taken to move away from the comfort of the porcelain.

In Australia we sometimes call this "driving the porcelain bus". Some other attractive names for retrobulbar peristalsis are:
* Parking a Tiger
* Making Street Pizza
* Laughing at the Dunny
What other euphemisms can anyone suggest?

cheers
Richard

Just a quickie whilst you're thinking up names... "Rim Requiem." Not a very popular one but one that has been used nonetheless.

"Goin' to Europe in a Buick". "Searching/singing for the *Tidy-Bowl* man". "Praying to the great porcelin god".

But my favorite has got to be "bowl yodelin'"!

NM

Baulching... you see, there was this teacher, Mr. Baulch, whom no one liked... and we kinda decided that his name had the proper sound for a euphemism for vomiting. We haven't told him... *yet*...