David Ellis off the sauce with Dry January: Can I really cope for 31 of the year's bleakest nights?

New year, new me, apparently. My usual take on Dry January is that it’s codswallop — rarely is a drink more warranted than during the bleakest 31 nights of the year. But curiously, I’ve had a change of heart. I suspect the cosmic quantity of Armagnac on NYE had something to do with it. Either way, for now I’m off the sauce. Two days already, look at me go.

This month, then, I’ll be propping up the bars where the booze has been taken away, a picture of perfect health, and likely insufferably smug to boot. The monastery will be on the phone in no time. Guinness 0.0 is the obvious go-to. In isolation, it tastes fraudulent, but put away in the pub and it’s near enough the real thing. The Lucky Saint (58 Devonshire Street, W1W, luckysaint.co), where there’s a mix of full-fat beer and those without the poison, is as good a place as any other for it.

A pint’s one thing — but it’s wine without the wine part that never seems to work. Fair play, then, to Murray Paterson and Ioakeim Goulidis for their brand Muri; the fizz, Passing Clouds, is on the menu at the Mulwray for nine quid a glass (28 Rupert Street, W1D, theblueposts.co.uk). Look, a mix of gooseberry wine, quince kefir, jasmine tea and something I now know is called geranium and woodruff kvass — around since the 1500s, though I hadn’t heard of it until about five minutes ago — is never going to mimic the best of Burgundy and Bordeaux. But in the comfort of the bar, there’s a lot about it like natural wine, by which I mean there’s a waft of funk and flowers and metal. Natural wine isn’t really my bag (can you tell?) but this is for the cause, so I’ll allow it.

Actually, the best hangover-free stuff I’ve had lately is Sprigster’s Garden Brut (£15, sprigsterdrinks.com), from Tisbury’s terrific Pythouse Kitchen Garden. It’s a little fruity, and given a booze-like sharpness from the apple cider vinegar. If I make it to the end of the month dry, I imagine I’ll priggishly break out a bottle and toast myself for being so strong-willed. Attaboy. The other bottle that does the trick is Herb All (£18.50, thewhiskyexchange.com). It’s not meant as a substitute for wine — or anything else, really. It’s simply a herbal pour that works best where gin would go. It comes from Maxim Schulte, once of the Savoy’s American Bar, who himself puts it in cocktails to lessen their lethality — say, replacing the gin in a negroni.

Obviously, I’m presently a paradigm of virtue, but come February 1, I’ll likely give his tip a spin. Maybe for elevenses. But in the meantime, thoughts and prayers, please. I’m not built for teetotalling.