The world of beer blogging is alight with the fire of lager at the moment. Beer styles, CO2 dispense methods, the point of CAMRA; it’s all exciting stuff, the sexiest of which I enjoyed here. But cooking lager isn’t a political movement, isn’t a matter of opinion, it’s a love. A great love that if you’re lucky will span a lifetime. It isn’t a journey to a different beer place, of new and exciting beer; it’s an acceptance of where you are, what you are doing, and who you are.
A great philosopher once said that before enlightenment the world is just the world. During enlightenment the world is no longer the world, and after enlightenment the world is just the world. That is cooking lager. Lout is lout, Life is life, and getting pissed for next to nowt is not only our birthright but our duty, whilst we take the journey all living things take to the same destination.
Upon this journey, yesterday evening, I purchased the cheapest box of grog I’d bought in a while. 18 bottles of Becks 5% 285ml for, now wait for it, £2.74. Yes folks that’s right. The whole box for less than the price of a pint. How did I manage this?
Well in part because I am a gracious and modern gentleman that accepts the joy of joint nectar card point’s accumulation. This means the points on the nectar card accumulate rapidly with every bit of tat the lady squeeze buys from the supermarket. You know, milk, bread, food, all the none essentials of life. Then every so often there it is a free fiver to spend. Combine that with a half price box of lout offer and Bob is your proverbial Aunty. Grog for next to nothing.
Now you might think there is a little friction in using up all the nectar points on cheap grog, and you could be right. But this is where the cooking lager enthusiast uses his extensive knowledge of female psychology to ease the path of wholesome and healthy cooking lager enthusiasm. The trick with the lass is to keep her sweet. I don’t really pull my weight around the house. I’d be lying if I said I did. But you see, thats what makes it exceptional when she comes home from work to see that I’ve cleaned the kitchen and bathroom and hoovered the stairs and around and stuff and even had time to do some shopping and prepare a meal. It’s a nice and unexpected surprise. If it happened daily it wouldn’t be so sweet. How is she to complain, seeing all that and then moan about more yet cheaper lout and the card points used up?
Cheap lout, happy lady squeeze, life is sweet. The only cloud on the horizon is the lady squeeze’s own enthusiasm for celebrities in the jungle. Might be worth texting a mate and suggesting a visit to a local grotty pub after all. What was I saying about pubs being for losers? When celebs are in the jungle we are all losers.