My preference is to buy the post-pub early-death meal-deal ready-made from the nearest all-nite take-away establishment (usually involves chilli sawwce, as it happens). This is for two reasons:
I'm extremely lazy and, maybe more significantly,
Pissed-up people, fryng pans or ovens in general don't mix well in my experience. If you're lucky, it's just the eyebrows/ashes/fringe that get totalled but not necessarily - flat or terraced house dwellers may also want to reflect on the third-party implications of that for a moment.
So, unless there's a house mate/guest who's the designated fryer and has opted to remain sober (and why /on earth/ would there be?), this whole intoxicant-fuelled cookery masterclass thing is a recipe for disaster (geddit).
That's enough hyphens - it's Pub o'clock. Cheers.