There will suddenly be the kind of police numbers on the streets that are only rivalled when we are in the grip of rioters and looters. They will use any excuse to pull you over so they can sniff your breath, just in case you've had a glass of sherry when visiting Auntie Ethel. They'll pull you over on your way to work in case they can catch you over the drink drive limit from the party the night before.
There will be disgustingly emotive TV commercials about children being slaughtered by the thousand by drivers who had an eggnog with their staff before closing the office for Christmas. There'll be ads showing the look of hatred on the face of an angelic five year old when he finds out his father failed a breathalyser, lost his job and has thrown his family into a life of grinding Dickensian poverty.
They'll make those disgusting anti-smoking adverts using kids to try and shame grown ups into giving up smoking look reasonable. Oh yes, the spirit of Joey the Cripple is alive and well and working on public service announcements in the UK.
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