Such was the case for the Leeds Nightowls inaugural 'Kings of War' League.
I'd been on the demon drink the night before, German Market + Girls was a recipe for disaster; nonetheless I started the day after a healthy 6 hours sleep feeling fairly chipper, and so made my way to the club in the blissful ignorance that alcohol promotes. Oh it knew it'd get me later, but for now it was happy to let me think I had got away with drinking...
The league would involve three games at 1250 points against random opponents using any single race army, Fan Lists being acceptable.
My first game was against Darren, using a Ratmen list. Frankly this was always going to be a gentle introduction to the day, Darren is a nice enough guy but only has one tactic - forwards.
This meant he was easy to outflank and easy to catch off guard, the two things my Human army was always going to thank him for.
It wasn't exactly a swift game, I was gradually slowing down, but it was an easy and emphatic win.
Between the first and second Game I had a look around some of the other armies on display. There was a definite leaning towards Humanoid armies with five of the 11 armies present being from their lists, aside mine these included an all Ogre list, a 'Brettonian' army, one based on Richard's War of The Roses army, and one below - made all of cavalry and mounted on terrain bases to show the whole army charging downhill:
Sadly they looked rather the worse for wear. Three of the other armies were Undead, including two leaning heavily on Werewolves. In fact Mark's army was all Werebeasts.
That left George's Orcs, who looked superb, but for some reason I failed to take pictures of, Darren's Rats and Paul's Pygmies - aka Goblins.
Back to the games, and I was drawn in the winners circle for round two, against a visitor to the Club, Neil, and his undead army. I got a photograph of initial deployments:
And that was about it, Over the course of the next hour or so my Hangover arrived, a devastating flank attack from my own side! I gradually sunk beneath the table, and my opponents amiability fell on stony ground as my head came under such an assault of self inflicted discomfort that I was only able to respond in monosyllabic grunts until such as stage as I could legitimately concede the defeat.
I demanded a 'By' for the final round and shakily put my models away; between bouts of lying down and trips to the bathroom to check I didn't need to throw up (thankfully I was spared that one humiliation) that kept the other players far more entertained than I was.
I'm afraid I couldn't tell you much about the rest of the games:
A sandwich (my first food for 24 hours I realised), a Lucozade and two Ibuprofen, along with a half hour nap saw me fit and able in time to watch the last few turns in the final games. But not bother with any more photo's.
So I can't really comment on the event, but only provide sage advice for my younger readers.
Don't drink and roll dice!