coops: The beer detective <body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://draft.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d8208936\x26blogName\x3dcoops\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://ukcoops.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://ukcoops.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-9200431209424159412', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script><!-- --><div id="b-navbar"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" id="b-logo" title="Go to Blogger.com"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/logobar.gif" alt="Blogger" width="80" height="24" /></a><form id="b-search" action="http://www.google.com/search"><div id="b-more"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" id="b-getorpost"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/btn_getblog.gif" alt="Get your own blog" width="112" height="15" /></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/redirect/next_blog.pyra?navBar=true" id="b-next"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/btn_nextblog.gif" alt="Next blog" width="72" height="15" /></a></div><div id="b-this"><input type="text" id="b-query" name="q" /><input type="hidden" name="ie" value="UTF-8" /><input type="hidden" name="sitesearch" value="ordinary-cookies.blogspot.com" /><input type="image" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/btn_search.gif" alt="Search" value="Search" id="b-searchbtn" title="Search this blog with Google" /><a href="javascript:BlogThis();" id="b-blogthis">BlogThis!</a></div></form></div><script type="text/javascript"><!-- function BlogThis() {Q='';x=document;y=window;if(x.selection) {Q=x.selection.createRange().text;} else if (y.getSelection) { Q=y.getSelection();} else if (x.getSelection) { Q=x.getSelection();}popw = y.open('http://www.blogger.com/blog_this.pyra?t=' + escape(Q) + '&u=' + escape(location.href) + '&n=' + escape(document.title),'bloggerForm','scrollbars=no,width=475,height=300,top=175,left=75,status=yes,resizable=yes');void(0);} --></script><div id="space-for-ie"></div><!-- --><div id="b-navbar"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" id="b-logo" title="Go to Blogger.com"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/logobar.gif" alt="Blogger" width="80" height="24" /></a><form id="b-search" action="http://www.google.com/search"><div id="b-more"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" id="b-getorpost"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/btn_getblog.gif" alt="Get your own blog" width="112" height="15" /></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/redirect/next_blog.pyra?navBar=true" id="b-next"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/btn_nextblog.gif" alt="Next blog" width="72" height="15" /></a></div><div id="b-this"><input type="text" id="b-query" name="q" /><input type="hidden" name="ie" value="UTF-8" /><input type="hidden" name="sitesearch" value="lovelurve.blogspot.com" /><input type="image" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/1/btn_search.gif" alt="Search" value="Search" id="b-searchbtn" title="Search this blog with Google" /><a href="javascript:BlogThis();" id="b-blogthis">BlogThis!</a></div></form></div><script type="text/javascript"><!-- --></script><div id="space-for-ie"></div>

October 04, 2004

The beer detective

Now I had forty when I when I got there and I took another fifty out on the night. So why I have only got ten left? It was a case for the beer detective again. Just where did that eighty pounds go to?

Unfortunately it does not start well when you look at the facts. Starting to drink at one o’clock is normally the first real sign. Of course drinking at lunch makes you hungry. Of course drinking in the afternoon makes you even hungrier. In fact it makes you so hungry that you deem not only a pub dinner suitable, but four packets of crisps.

So you spend the next day piecing together the facts. You can slowly, but surely, start to recount where you went and what you drank. You remember the five pints of Guinness in the first pub, the two cans of beer at the house, the two pints of Guinness in the next pub, the three double vodka redbulls at the next, the two pints of Guinness at the one after, the 5 Jack Daniels and coke at the club, the glass of champagne, and the killer, shit, did I really have that cigarette.

And then comes the more sinister side. Once you have finished your tally of drink, then comes the memories of what you said, or did not say. Drinking makes you speak crap. Full stop. What seems a perfectly acceptable thing to say at the time, in fact, is a complete load of bollocks the next day. You can only hope that they were drunk as well, and that their detective is not for the hire that day.

But surely, the worst crime comes after the drinking. The desire to suddenly feel the need to eat a kebab. Why when someone else suggests the idea does it become so attractive? And the kebab people must remain blameless. In front of you they put a large elephant looking rotating foot structure in from of you. They may have well put a sign saying ‘Look, don’t eat this’. Even when you are drunk you know it looks bad. Really bad. And then the salad. A subconscious extra that makes you think, ‘hey I’m eating a tub of fat but at least I’ve got some lettuce, that’s good for me’. Eating a kebab at 3am always means the good eating manners are suddenly forgotten. Clasping the grease bucket with both hands, half the lettuce falls out, with the fat dripping down your shirt. Half way through this exercise you either suddenly come to your senses and realise that the four pounds you have just paid for the piece of cat meat is indeed a bad idea, tossing the other half on the floor. Or you realise that the drinking hunger pill is still working and it tastes fantastic.

Taxi! That’s strange, I thought I had some notes in my wallet.




0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home








-->




<> Listed on BlogShares