An artisanally crafted blog curated by Cooking Lager for discerning readers of beer bloggery

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

The Bucky

Its official, the poll is in. Getting pissed is officially “great fun” 82%; 29 to 6 voted overwhelmingly that getting pissed is super duper. And why not? Getting pissed does not automatically lead to fighting in the street, property damage, visits to A&E and a general kick off. Getting pissed is just a way of achieving a wonderful state of mind. Most people when getting pissed become nicer versions of themselves, rather than aggressive. If you are female and have nice knockers you might get the chance to discover that when pissed I’m a very friendly chap indeed. So friendly the lady squeeze can take umbrage due no doubt to personal insecurity on her part. As for the 6 that voted that getting pissed was irresponsible, I’m pleased to welcome gay readers to this blog.

Now despite appearances I’m not as stupid as I first appear. Almost, mind. Despite an enthusiasm for cheap grog and delight at getting pissed I’m not sure this nation of ours does have what people call a healthy relationship to alcohol. Pete Brown has been running a long tirade of tedium about the threat of prohibition that was interesting for the first couple of episodes. The rest might have been but I tuned out.

Within the last six months I got to see an A&E department on a Friday night and frankly it wasn’t pretty. Having dinner with friends, I’d barely got a sip of the nice Cabernet Sauvignon I’d been given when a scream came out of the squeezes friends kitchen and the dopey fella of said squeezes pal had as good as dammit hacked his hand to bits with a sharp knife. All of this whilst sober, and a lesson if ever there was one that all this cooking from scratch milarky isn’t healthy as people make out. You won’t cut yourself on a microwave. All off to A&E then. And what a piece of entertainment that was. Knocking our hard working angelic nurses is neither big nor clever, but frankly it was like watching medical arbitrage in a war zone. It reminded me of the film MASH.

You can quote as many statistics as you like, and bend them to whatever means suits your purpose, but like most people I prefer anecdotal evidence to empirical evidence. The evidence of my own eyes. Hence government agencies can quote whatever crime figures they like, but when someone of my acquaintance is a victim of crime I am of the view that the country is going to the dogs. Town centres that are hell holes on a Saturday night and A&E departments like war zones inform me that the country has an issue that requires addressing.

It is no surprise some believe in a form of alcohol rationing, with price as the tool. Because of course the problem is poor people, not nice middle class people and if the poor were not such piss heads the whole problem would go away. The pub industry believes in pointing the finger at the off trade and supporting protectionist policies that it thinks will help its industry. As a lover of cheap grog you can accuse me of adopting a perspective that equally suits me and you would be right.

Hence, the problem I quickly discovered can be summed up with “The Scottish”. The problem is that our nation includes Scotland. All the aggressive pissheads in the A&E department were Scottish. When going to the train station the drunk with the can of spesh is indeed a scot. Upon reading this yesterday, BBC News here, I discovered a possible reason why the jocks are as they are, and set about attempting to buy a bottle of the Bucky to see whether it put me in a fighting mood. Kirsty posts about the Bucky here. However I could not find it for love nor money. Neither off licence nor supermarket in this neck of the woods stocks the Bucky. Is that why the English are more civilised?

Therefore I cannot do the research required to discover whether the Bucky is or isn’t a fighting drink. I have to trust the BBC. Of interest the price of Bucky is well within the 50p per unit, people would have us believe would solve the problem of binge drink Britain.

I have a better solution. Sack off the Scottish. Without Scotland there is only binge drink Scotland. There is no binge drink Britain without the jocks, A&E would be nice, no tramps in the street and the Daily Mail would have to concentrate on knocking immigrants and lay off boozers.


Ken Davidson said...

Don't forget the Welsh. That bloody Cardiff is a hell hole on Saturday night. And, as Scots are far too tight to pay to travel to the Welsh capital to party, I doubt you could lay the blame at their feet!

The Beer Nut said...

And Northern Ireland -- massive consumers of Buckfast there.

Barm said...

I'd come down and biff you one for those remarks, if I weren't too stingy to fork out for the train and too drunk to be able to hit you when I got there.

Ken Davidson said...

Barm, I'm a Scot who tried to get to London in 1986. Had to bail out in Brum due to being caught with no ticket. Stuck here ever since 'cos I'm no parting with any cashola to get out.

Barm said...

Ah Ken, there's a special deal you can use, created back in BR days just for the likes of us and still in the fares manual. Just wait for the ticket inspector to come round and tell him "I don't need a ticket pal, I'm travelling Scot Free." He will nod and additionally bring you four complimentary cans of McEwan's heavy. Be sure to leave the empty cans rolling about the floor when you leave the train.

Mate of Clarke said...

The beer world knows you drink Babycham while you get your nails done. For all we know, you could be Jeffrey Bell. My money is that you're synonymous with the Clerkenwell landlord.

Cooking Lager said...

I'm not going to have a crack at the irish or welsh, not yet anyway. It's all the fault of the scottish.

Oh and I like Clarkey too, and there is nothing wrong with a nice Babycham while you get your cuticles seen too. The modern lout enthusiast is a metrosexual unembarrassed in regard to male grooming including a manicure.

Kristy said...

Kirsty???? Did you mean me - I can only assume the fumes from the cuticle remover had gone to your head and impaired your spelling ;o)

I think if we exile Oldham as well as a National Average we'll all be almost teetotal and then we can all drink as much as we like!!

Ed said...

I called in at Buckfast Abbey to get a bottle when I was passing. It's not bad, but quite sweet.

Adrian Tierney-Jones said...

The funny thing about this stuff, which I have never had (though I did have a sesh on Thunderbird many years ago, mainly cause I wanted to be Jack Kerouac for the afternoon), is that it can be got from the gift shop at Buckfast Abbey on the way to Plymouth, and further more the shop also sells beers from both Chimay and Andechs (monkish connections all), which means I always pop in to get a few of the latter (whose Bock and Spezial I love) when I’m passing.