He had been drinking beer since twelve o’clock, ever since Netta had sent him out to get the A.B.C. He had got happier and happier and happier.
He had been supremely, gloriously happy when he had got on the train. and instead of having lunch he had ordered beer. But now, as the rain flashed through Haywards Heath, it occurred to him that he was making usual fool of himself.
From Patrick Hamilton’s Hangover Square (1941)