Make sure you book, not only the morning but the next night, the day after and the previous three weeks off. This is the amount of time you will need to be nice to your dog as you will be sharing its house for at least the next 48 hours.
If by chance you stumble into your bed at the end of the night, you are bound to be met with a cold shoulder, a "Bloody hell what time do you call this?" and "You stink, you've been smoking haven't you?'. Make sure you steel yourself against this by heading straight to the spare room.
Don't get this mixed up, and definitively not with the kids' bedroom. God forbid you accidentally wake them up by stumbling in their room up and they start crying. Your significant other will greet you in the same manner as if you have just admitted to being Jimmy Saville's wingman.
OOTD (That is youth speak for Outfit Of The Day)
It doesn't matter what you are wearing because you are going "OUT OUT! Not just OUT! Just settle for the universal dad uniform of smart work jacket, jeans and a shirt. Everyone else will and you will feel left out if you don't.
Knowing One's Limitations
The more pint's you down the more trips to the loo you are going to need. You hit 40 and your bladder shrinks, a medical fact. Gents toilets, especially in busy weekend pubs are rancid hell-holes. Don't go unless you really have no choice.
Keep it old school with proper mates, not workmates or NCT buddies or anyone that will fold under questioning. Also, anyone born after 1980 is automatically barred for fear of ruining the inevitable drunken "Do you remember?"conversations.
The General Public
The majority of the general public are knobheads, especially when drunk. The older you get, the more your tolerance levels rapidly diminishes. Consider that you will be doing a lot of tutting.
Tutting about how stupid most blokes around you look, with their beards and skinny jeans and most importantly tutting about how skimpy/glam/slutty the women look.
Alongside this, you will, of course, continue bragging about how many of them you could still "pull" if you actually wanted to, which you don't. Obviously, you are not going to, because deep down inside they terrify you but male ego and social convention won't let that compute.
You will spend at least 2 hours convincing everybody that you should go to a club. Don't; just try and find a half reasonable pub with a late licence and somewhere you might be able to have a sit-down and not subject the world to your dad dancing.
You will spend 60% of the night arguing with your mates that everything is shit since the Stone Roses split, asking why is the DJ is using a laptop rather than vinyl?' and listing the reasons that Simon Cowell should put on trial in the Hague for crimes against humanity.
However, no matter how bad the music gets it is unacceptable to ask them to turn it down, so you should just start smoking again just to hang outside where it's slightly quieter.
Time to Go Home?
Never, "Who's round is it?" Inside you are screaming for a cuppa, but you're in the process of telling your best mate just how much of a massive cock he is for wanting to go home. This means you can't bale out for fear of losing face.
Time to Go Home
You've lost track of whose round it is. Seen your mate try to put his best moves to, the table full of twenty-somethings sitting opposite, only to be so hideously burned that he needs a skin graft to patch up his wounded pride.
Time for the Jeremy Kyle Green Room that is the cab rank. The place where dodgy kebabs, regrettable one-night stands, the "You staring at my" punch up's and cheap perfume go to die.
If the God's are with you, you might somehow manage to get home, not slam the front door, trip up over one of the kids' roller skates and wake them up...
The Next Day
Get Dignitas on speed dial, because you will feel so bad you will want to end it after constantly having to say "Oh did I? Sorry about that it won't happen again". "It was (insert best mate's name) fault you know what he's like" and "I know you never liked him" and "I won't see him again".
For more of this type of nonense, check out Don't Believe The Hype