I think I have been drunk too much this week,
Consuming all and being thus consumed.
And though this madness on myself I wreaked,
The mania is heady as perfume.

Across the world the feverish unite,
Awash in anxious hopes and nameless fears,
Prepared to praise and curse the very sight
Of episodes for which we’ve waited years.

The time for moderation will return,
And with it my responsibilities.
I’ll sweep the ashes of our passion burned,
And lock the fire away with practiced ease.

For being drunk’s no thing to sugar-coat:
Just ask a glass of water, Adams wrote.