IF the thought of watching David Dimbleby drone you to death into the wee hours of the morning is enough to make you want to flee to Trump's America, then never fear, the Sunday Herald is here to provide you with our guide to an Alternative Election Night - a Thursday free from politics, pundits, useless polls, fake news and Andrew Neil's hair-do.

1 Apparently you are no longer allowed to say things like this, but you could just go out with your pals and get stormingly drunk, come home with a kebab and wake up so hungover you have no desire to know who is ruling the country/readying to take us all to hell in a handcart the next morning.

2 Turn off the TV. Read. Remember that? Reading.

3 Turn off the TV. Talk to your family - remember that? Talking. To your family. In your house.

4 Watch a boxset from simpler more happier times. Say, Moonlighting, the Goodies or The New Avengers?

5 No-one can dance anymore. So learn to dance (it will take longer than one night, but at least you'll be making a start).

6 Play games with your children. You know those small people in your house who sit staring at a screen all day? Well, years ago big people once played games with them. Try it.

7 Cook a really complicated seven course meal. Create giant cut-outs of Greg Wallace and John Torode to bring an ambience of fear and humiliation to your kitchen and attempt to make such things as a ballotine de lapin, followed by a bavois de frambois avec creme pat (whatever the hell any of that means).

8 Ponder the existence of God/meaning of life. This should take you at least from 9.30pm to 4am.

9 Learn a foreign language. Russian, maybe - seems a handy skill given world events.

10 Learn a computer language. Russian, maybe?

11 Book your summer holiday. Given world events this may not take long however, as Largs feels the safest place on earth at the moment.

12 Take time with your significant other. You know - that person you see in your house sometimes.

13 Invent something. Perhaps it's time for the Wine-Helmet. If so, you could be the person to gift it to the world.

14 Draft letters calling for the banning of anyone who uses phrases such as 'I'll reach out to them', 'what's my take away on this' and 'moving forward'.

15 Write a book. It's easy. Drink a bottle of wine, pick up pen, write. Burn writing in morning.

16 Write a poem. Don't.

17 Write a bucket list. Number one on bucket list: wishing for death for using the phrase 'bucket list'.

18 Learn to play a musical instrument. Not the piano - this will take more than one evening. But the bongos is a surefire bet.

19 Try out a new sport. Competitive lying down. International gin-tasting. Advanced bongo-playing (see 18 above).

17 Spend the evening star-gazing. No jokes here. It's just really cool.

18 Live tweet your entire evening to Donald Trump ending every tweet #covfefe

19 Stare silently at the wall. All night. Then rise and simply go to bed.

20 Develop a comedy walk for one night only.

21 Write that comedy routine you've always dreamed you were capable of - then burn it.

22 Do things to frighten your neighbours. Standing in your garden, wearing only your pants and sipping a cocktail is a good place to start.

23 Ask a young person (someone aged under 25) to explain modern music to you. Begin with the advent of dubstep.

24 De-clutter your house. You are not Mr Trebus so you do not need those copies of NME from 1989.

25 Try owling, planking, sofa-surfacing and moon-walking - google all these first for your own safety.

26 Make a short film for submission to the Sundance Film Festival. Pitch line: imagine if Titanic was crossed with Mrs Brown's Boys.

27 Learn how to control your body language so you can lie to anyone - even an FBI profiler - convincingly.

28 Get a tattoo. Apparently a tattoo of Donald Trump's face exactly in place over your own face is the next big thing in ink.

29 Watch some teen shows like 'Catfish' or 'Teen Mom' - and then go and hug your children, for the world they will inherit is a dark and confusing one, and you cannot help them.

30 Turn your own living room into an election night studio. Dress your auntie up like Robin Day, turn your cat into John Curtice and broadcast it all via periscope - it's gonna be a long night but at least it'll be your night.

31Make sweet love. People don't say it enough, but really - make sweet sweet love.

32 Update your 'which celebrity will die next' list.

33 Pick up your phone and start playing with the apps - remarkably you'll find that it is soon six in the morning, you have accomplished nothing, know nothing and election night is over.