Had a corking weekend, and even enjoyed a social event. Don’t often enjoy social events, I more often than not tolerate them with a view that if I don’t sulk and pretend I’m enjoying myself, the lady squeeze does not get annoyed and I get a bit of how’s your father.
None of this is relevant to the beer blogosphere, though. The relevant bit is my pal Greek Dave popped round on Sunday. Greek Dave is not Greek, he’s a cockney. He’s a cockney oop north, and as you would expect a popular lad among the boys, not least for his usual greeting towards the chaps of “Any of you northern monkey’s fancy a pint?” I have never asked him why he’s called Greek Dave. Greek Dave popped round because he’d lent my wallpaper steamer and decided upon returning it along with a gift.
Greek Dave nabbed a beer book I’d been propping up the sofa with, one I reviewed here, and wanted to give me the sequel on the basis that I’d be interested in reading it. Nothing could be further from the truth but as it was the same thickness as the book he nabbed, I figured I’d have it as a replacement sofa proper upper. Why would I want to read a book about beer? Why would anyone?
Thinking about it the world is full of books that no one in their right mind would want to read. Celebrity autobiographies. Sporting autobiographies, Thrillers about conspiracies in the Catholic Church, books about cricket. Who in earth buys and reads this shit?
However, this of course affords me the opportunity of a beer book review. What’s to say about “Three sheets to the wind, one man’s journey into the meaning of beer”? Well I can tell you the meaning of beer without the need to read a book. Beer is a device for getting drunk. Well that’s saved me the bother, but as I had little else to do I decided to read it. It’s about a fella who has an amazing idea. The idea is to travel the world, drinking beer, at someone else’s expense, then write a book about it. Top stuff.
That gave me an idea. I could travel the world, at some else’s expense, and write a book about it. All I needed to do was find a subject that enough mug punters are interested in enough to buy a book about, then get an advance off a publisher, sod off on a free jaunt, and type up the tosh as some sort of spiritual journey.
But what subject? Beer has been done, obviously. Though there are enough mugs about that want to spend good money on beer books. Football maybe? Loads of mugs are into football. Nah, I can’t stand football. Sex tourism? Well I can’t see the lady squeeze being happy with that. Then it hit me. Travel the world eating “Triple Whoppers”. A world wide tour of the triple whopper. I travel the globe eating junk food and write about how the burger tastes the same everywhere I go. A travelogue for people that don’t want to have to engage with, interact with or in any way deal with the foreign culture they find themselves in. Along the journey I can have some sort of Buddhist like awakening into the nature of self, throw in a few jokes and Bob is your aunty. £8.99 a copy. Kerching.
Time to write some letters to publishers, asking for an advance on what looks like the travel book of the 21st century. Pete Brown I thank you. Not only have you sorted my wobbly sofa, but gave new meaning to my life.