Tag Archives: beer

Beer me; I offer services

It seems as of yesterday afternoon it officially became summer around here.

See, Bournemouth has this crafty way of making you forget it’s actually really nice in the middle of the year. It’s often sunny – a lot more so than in my previous homes of the north, annoyingly – and parts that aren’t Boscombe or most of the centre are actually (whisper it) nice.

But that matters for little, because it’s sunny. And what does sunny mean? It means I want to drink delicious chilled beers. But I am poor, as I may have pointed out to one or two of you four billion times and you have my apologies if the fact I can’t live a normal life thanks to a lack of monetary support somehow annoys you but FUCK OFF. Ahem.

Anyway, to counter this I have decided to offer some services in exchange for different amounts of beer. Feel free to take me up on them.

For one (1) bottle of beer (of my choice), I will write a nice letter to you telling you how great you and how everyone thinks you’re super-rad, even if it’s all a massive lie (which it will be).

For two (2) bottles of beer (of my choice), I will send you a code for guest access to Diablo 3, allowing you to play the game up to the point you take on the Skeleton King. Also, as a bonus, the code has already been used.

For six (6) bottles of beer (of my choice), I will read over your CV for you and laugh at all the stupid mistakes and idiotic shit you’ve put in it.

For one (1) crate of beer (of my choice), I will send you a flirty message to your OKCupid account, which will make you feel better about yourself and less like you’re a pathetic ball of snot that nobody in their right mind would ever even consider going near, nevermind actually want to go out with you horrible, terrible piece of shit why don’t you just die. Yeah, it’ll make you not feel like that.

For two (2) crates of beer (of my choice), I will do you a really good drawing of a bear. And by ‘good’ I mean ‘good by my standards’ and if you judge said standards to be poor then you are a wrong idiot.

I am open to other suggestions, too. My choices of beer will likely be of the BrewDog variety, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Sam Adams Boston Lager and maybe some others I can’t think of right now. Not Carling.

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The worst beers in the world, officially (N.B. not officially)

Beer is great, but the beer that – apparently – most people drink is piss and shit mixed up into one dickhead-shaped can. No, really, it is. I reckon if you put through a freedom of information request you’d get that in writing from some kind of government official. It’s bad stuff, so for the benefit of Chris “But I Like Carlsberg” McMahon, I’m going to review some of the more popular/ubiquitous brands.

Now, I’m not stupid or ugly enough to claim I have never drank these shitty beers, nor that I don’t still indulge every now and then. But I don’t drink them anywhere near as much as I used to, and it’s getting to the point where I visibly shudder in a pub if forced to utter the phrase “a pint of Carling, please”. In fact, it’s increasingly rare for me to drink any beer at all, post-EA Sportsageddon. Just thought I’d clear that up. ONWARDS.

Otherwise known as ‘The Worst Thing In The World’, I have heard rumours Carling is actually one big joke being played by beer company owners across the world. They wanted to see how gullible the British public could be by introducing a beer so utterly without merit it can only be called ‘beer’ because they paid off Trading Standards and trying to make it the most popular ‘beer’ in the country. These days, the beer company owners just sit around all day, laughing in utter disbelief and counting their money.

Brother of ing, berg was introduced to the market to try and mop up those twats who will only drink things if they sound foreign. Not too foreign, mind – you don’t want no Vlablowski or anything. Nah, berg is much closer to home, and we all know a Carl.

For some reason Heineken gets a bit of an easy ride from people – I think it’s the American influence, as they seem to like it over there. While I appreciate they’re one of the few lagers that offer themselves up in tinycan format, I still can’t get over the fact that it tastes like piss water.

Coors Light
Do you know what it tastes like when you’ve lightly heated cabbage in unsalted water for thirteen months – just enough to raise the temperature, not enough to boil the water off – strained the chunks out, chilled the remaining liquid and then drank it? Yes, you do – because you’ve all had a Van Damme-approved Coors Light.

Stella Artois
When something is HILARIOUSLY referred to as ‘wife beater’, you know it’s definitely a beer worth drinking. Originally brewed by mysterious types in Leuven, Belgium, all records of the lager’s inception were lost after the entire town brawled itself to death.

John Smith’s


Not even bitter is safe from my ire here, as I rise up in protest against that most Northern of beverages. Aside from the bloke on the artwork (I’d guess he’s called ‘John’, or ‘Busey’) looking like a twat, the beer itself is bland. Cheap, yes. But utterly without merit, unless you want to pretend to impress Southerners by drinking ‘real beer, like’.

Just get fucked, yeah?

People seem to think this is better than the other beers listed for some reason. Details aren’t my strong point right now as I’m very hungry, but safe to say: they’re wrong. Kronenbourg is just as shitty as the other stuff.

I’m sure there’s more, but I’m done being a big arrogant prick now. And for all my eulogising about things like Sierra Nevada, the fact it’s readily available in the UK – albeit imported – means it’s not as edgy and cool as I want it to be. Must find more obscure beers to like, to keep up my beer-hipster status…

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I hate you St Patrick’s Day

I just wanted to go for a beer, I did not want to be set upon by legions of dickheads wearing branded hats that somehow make them even twattier than they already are. I dislike full pubs/clubs/any other public places at the best of times, but fuck me if St Patrick’s Day isn’t the most ridiculous of the lot. It’s merely an excuse for all of the utter wankers you never want to see in your lifetime – never mind all of them together in one place with you – to go out and get as hammered as only the truly pathetic wankers can (seriously: learn how to handle your drink you absolute peasants. You apparently drink so much – I’ve seen you on Booze Britain, so don’t deny it. So why the hell can’t you have more than two or three shandies before you turn into a loud, lairy, obnoxious piece of shit?).

This is without even going down the route that oh so many people (rightly) point out: the majority of you are not Irish. You don’t care about Ireland, its saints or its heritage the rest of the time, so why the fuck now? What’s so special about this day, besides the fact that you’re so monumentally stupid you allow yourself to be drawn in to this Guinness-marketed drivel? Name one fucking thing that makes the day special, aside from the effect it has on my ability to go and enjoy one chilled beverage before I head home? One thing. A thing. You can’t, can you? Plebs. (I mean, neither can I, but then I don’t subscribe to this bullshit so I have the higher ground here)

Do you think many Irish people care about the English? Do you think they’d care about our patron saint’s day? Would they bollocks. They’d find a reasonable excuse to go out on the lash. “It’s Wednesday”, for example. It’s confusing, therefore, that I hate St Patrick’s Day so much, yet I can identify with the Irish so much. It makes me befuddled and hungry.

Here’s a suggestion: next year we all pick a day and make it Saint Guinefort’s day. Then I’d happily wear a shit hat and go out on the lash because I’ve been told to by some marketing pricks.


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Late entry to the drunkicon

This counts, because I’ve not been to bed since I woke up. THEREFORE it’s just one day. Good god It’s hard to hit the keys I want.

There are many different types of drunken people, and they all react to the DEVIL’S BREW in different ways. I, for example, tend to stand tall and stoic, looking like no one can fell this giant when in actual fact all you need to do is sing some ABBA at me and I’m on the floor. It’s a fine technique that I’ve honed over the years and it results in many friends saying things like “I didn’t even know you were drunk” and the like. Trust me – I was.

Then we have the foolish drunks, who get a few bevvies inside them and let just about everything loose. Sorry kids, but just keep some of it for the imagination, instead of just being a big drunk prick who gets naked at the first sign of half a pint of shandy. Not naming any names.

Can you tell this is down the path of naming drunk types? It’s easy to do this bit when I’ve had a few shandies myself.

My favourite is probably the all-outer, who drinks so much they can no longer see, communicate or… well – live. These tend to be the ones that are either lightweights or overdrinkers (a phrase I’ve just invented, yet one I’m sure has been used before). They are the most amusing of the drinkers, and the ones that make us continue to try and destroy our most hardy of the organs – the liver.

Apologies both for the fact this is a shit entry, and the fact I’m so very inebriated right now. All spelling mistakes/typos are courtesy of BEER. I love you all. Good night.


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