Monday, 3 January 2011
I’ve managed to so far resist the temptation to do any of the following. Review 2010, award “golden pint” awards or detail all the fantastic cans of cheap lager I necked over Christmas to celebrate the birth of our Lord and saviour, detailing which cheap lager goes best with a turkey dinner, basically because I didn’t.
In fact Christmas was quite a sober affair. I drew the short straw driving wise, so I can lay claim to having drank pretty much every variety of J20 available. Christmas Eve I did the driving to a fancy dress party of a work mate of the squeeze whom gets camper every time I meet the fella. You might say being gay is an excuse, but frankly in my opinion it isn’t. There is no excuse for that level of campness unless you are applying for a part in a 1970’s sitcom. Having said that I quite enjoyed it despite being one of the few sober people there.
I blame that party for the ensuing week. Volunteering to do all the driving on Christmas day I got neither grape nor grain down my neck. Christmas week followed and still I could not be bothered to get any booze down me. As New Years Eve approached the squeeze even asked if I was sick. Not As far as I know? Surely New Years Eve would break my boozing fast?
It was then I realised I had contracted loutitis. A disease so rare it isn’t even known by most doctors. It affects cooking lager enthusiasts from time to time and the only known cure is a can of cheap lager.
After a New Year of not boozing and once more doing the driving I was getting quite used to not drinking. Then the darts occurred. Not being the type to fork out for Sky telly, the PDC darts passes me by. Phil Taylor, who is he? The second rate BDO tournament has hit BBC2 free to air TV in all its glory. Fat blokes, tattoos, gold sovereign rings and Colin Murray commenting more on the players girlfriends than the arrows. It is beautiful. As far as sport goes it might as well be a tournament of fat blokes throwing paper balls into a rubbish bin at the other side of the room, but the drama of the thing is compelling. I find it to be the sport highlight of the year, coming in only a few days into the New Year. As one fat bloke stared at the dartboard, a bead of sweat running down his chubby pink face we new it all hanged on that one dart. That one dart to win the leg, the set and the game. Miss the double and the other fat bloke, the one with a tattoo would get a chance to get the leg, the set and even up the game to all square. I held my breath. With that sort of tension there is only one response.
“You going into the kitchen, my love?”
“Yeh, want something?”
“Hand us a can of lout, love”
And I was back in the game. My first swig of cheap lager for over a week. The golden fizzy delight tickled its way down my throat. It’s not you; it’s me I thought. I am the one that has been away. You have always been here, waiting for me. I am the one that has been chugging J20 and peppermint tea. I am the one that has been driving to places to see family, friends and dutifully walking around the sales and not screaming “It’s all shit, for gods sake woman, it’s all cheap pointless shit” But now we are back together, a love that will never die. The love only a man can have for a can of cheap lager.
I had pondered the point of cooking lager enthusiasm. Sure it is fun to have a bit of mild harmless fun at the expense of beer geeks. But with that swig the point became all too clear. There is no greater love than that of a man towards his can of cheap lager. That is something to celebrate through 2011. Have a great 2011 and get some cheap lager down you.