Nothing says I’m having the time of my life like having a little spew. One second I was showing my friend Lawrence the new Hugh Grant facial expressions I’d mastered, the next I had that not-so-fresh feeling. Subtly I excused myself. It was time for a classy spew. Liquid, air, chunks, public or private, nothing beats the sense of relief. But you don’t want to get this moment wrong.

There is no flattering way to spew. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be classy. Sure, you’re filthy, and you’re nasty, but you look so gorgeous as you silently erupt a waterfall of Passion Pop from your mouth, your hair all neatly pulled back. So just own it.

My housemate’s boyfriend came home late last night after a particularly tragic night at Beach Haus. Me? I was being a good boy. Quietly curled up in bed with the electric blankey on, cup of tea, casually flicking between New Matilda and Red Tube, when all of a sudden I heard the sounds of choking. It was Vom Vom Time.

This very un-classy affair lasted about 20 minutes. I wanted to help. I wanted to be there. I wanted to fetch water. But what could I do? Hold his head for him? Moisten his brow? No way dude!! Maybe I could’ve asked if he was alright, or offered him one of my tissues. That would’ve been classy. In the morning he sheepishly sashayed out of the bathroom in a Def Leppard T-shirt claiming food poisoning. Liar!

I’ll never forget my high school reunion when Cindy Palmer, a moderately talented Netball player, spewed on herself then cried like a baby. Not classy. But for every Cindy Palmer, there’s a Veronica Sawyer silently spewing behind the shelter sheds, reapplying some lippy, sipping some mineral water and getting back out there.

A gentlemen never tells… and as my friend Matt says, there’s two ways to do it, out of your mouth or in the back alley. Secret spews are more classy. We might all know, but we don’t want to. Find a mirror, do you have chunks on your face? Clean them off. What about some water? Ever seen what stomach acid can do to your teeth? Also, from like a safety perspective, put a time limit on it. Over 30 minutes and you should call an ambulance, like Top Gun, you’re in the danger zone.

Stay classy Sydney!