- Waking up (most likely hungover covered in kebab sauce) and being able to roll over and snuggle into ‘oh look that’s where the rest of the’ Kebab and go back to sleep.
- It’s a day where personal hygiene takes a rest, you might smell worse than the cast of Geordie Shore but who cares?!
- It’s actually kind of a law of nature that calories don’t count on Sunday’s. At all.
- Jaffa cakes, bacon and a petit filous does constitute for a perfect Sunday breakfast.
- You don’t have to go outside, unless it’s in the car for a hungover McDonald’s run.
- You might have made a tit out of yourself last night and chundered in front of everyone but Sunday’s mean not having to leave the comfort of your bedroom/hovel for at least 24 hours.
- Sunday’s have no beginning, middle or end they just kind loll endlessly on in a sea of biscuits and Orange Is The New Black.
- There is absolutely no time for cleaning the kitchen on a Sunday. IT CAN WAIT TILL MONDAY.
- Sunday’s AKA blessed Yorkshire pudding and gravy day.
- There’s always usually a terribly bad 80/90s film on.
- Pyjamas are the fashion of choice. It’s 24 hours of braless pyjamaness.
- You can finally catch up on all the Facebook/Twitter/Instagram-ing you neglected during the working week.