The Local Government Association, who represent 370 councils in England and Wales, have recently estimated the cost to the NHS of dealing with excessive alcohol consumption at £3.5bn a year. The LGA are also calling for tax breaks on zero-alcohol beverages and weaker grade drinks.

Government statistics claim that our drinking habits are changing, with the numbers of non-drinking adults up, from 19pc to 21pc since 2005. A whole 2pc? Predictably thin gruel after a decade of half-hearted governmental finger-wagging, I'd say.

Recently, however, the UK's chief medical officer ratcheted up the campaign, citing increased risk of drink-related cancer. She warned that the only safe amount of alcohol was none.

Despite their noble aims, the government faces two major obstacles. The first is that no government really wants to become known as the one who called time at the bar. The second is that they won't want to kiss goodbye to all that lovely revenue. In 2014, wine and spirits contributed £15.6bn to the Treasury. Despite it all, our rulers' message remains that we should either ease up or, preferably, stop drinking altogether.

The shocking thing here is that I believe they may be right.

Acting upon William Blake's maxim that, 'A fool who persists in his folly will become wise', two months ago, with an award-winning hangover, I put down my tankard. I also put down my Paris goblet, my shot glass, my port-sipper, my gallon demi-john and a large funnel. Just kidding about that last bit – I don't own a port-sipper. When I stopped drinking, I circled no resumption date on my calendar. I haven't given up the drink, though. I've only stopped 'until further notice'.

I wanted to see what would happen to me. I also felt that having received, during recent months, the best help that our mighty NHS could give me, the least I could do was work as their inside man and clean up my own act. I gave up smoking five years ago 'for a few days' and I've never lit up since.

I've cycled and walked everywhere for most of my life and my diet's good. On balance I wasn't too unhealthy, so drink would surely be the last citadel to fall.

But it was a big one and I was born within its bailiwick. My grandfather died of cirrhosis in a military hospital in 1946. My father, a man of iron will, could go teetotal for months at a time but then do a bottle of gin in a sitting. He died of liver cancer some years ago.

I write this because if there are any readers out there who are 'steady' drinkers and have contemplated giving up for a while, here is an account of what happened to me when I did.

During early days there were times when I felt pretty bleak, though not all of the time. Nearly every morning for four weeks, I awoke with a kind of ghost hangover. This seemed unjust. Perhaps it was a liver detox thing.

At 6.30 every evening, my former 'wine o'clock', an interval began which I christened The Misery Hour. I would drift around in joyless nothingness with nothing to cheer me until the evening meal, after which, the feeling passed. At various random times I'd feel slightly heady, or just indefinably strange. At no time did it occur to me to seek help, since it's always been my habit to be viciously sarcastic to anyone attempting to counsel me. I wish I could say that I was confronting my demons. Nothing so prissily dramatic, I was merely bored and angry. After a month of it, and with the type of perverse defiance which is my default setting, I decided to continue for a second month.

And now? I feel tons better. I sleep well. I've regained the kind of energy which I last knew in my thirties. The vague feelings of impending doom and rootless remorse which used to linger around me on certain days, no longer manifest themselves.

I've lost 10 pounds in weight – and going down. My tackiest stage clothes fit properly again. In the mornings, that back-pocket tenner, which I used to keep for emergencies, is still there. I'm told by one nearby that I'm calmer and generally a bit nicer than I once was. To my surprise, I laugh a lot. I feel as if I've regained some indefinable lost happiness which I misplaced many years ago.

I do brave the pub occasionally but after a while I find it boring. I won't drink those silly little fruit juices, though. Instead I order tonic with two drops of Angostura bitters dropped in, which tastes more like a grown-up drink.

I didn't want to wax evangelical here, nor did I want to get all confessional, so I've tried not to. This is as close as I've been able to get to straight reportage on my experience of sobriety after four decades on the hamster wheel of work+reward drinking. This type of drinking will be well known to musicians, policemen and doctors, many of whom have experienced it from both sides of the counter.

If anyone reading this piece wants to give stopping a shot, I'd strongly advise you to consult your doctor first. The reason for this is that if you are a heavier drinker, sudden withdrawal can be dangerous, sometimes fatal. But then, so can carrying on.