Dammit… my head

If you’re reading this, please read it quietly.

Last night I took myself along to the Beer Festival at the Dove Street Inn. Yikes, what a night! What a selection of beers! What a selection of ciders! What a selection of hangover cures! Yes, there is someone in my head and they’re trying to get out through my eyeballs. This minute. As I type. So forgive any spelling mistakes, I can barely make out the keyboard.

I think my downfall was a beer called Kriek. Having started nice and easily with a pint of my old favourite “Albert” (4.4%) from the Earl Soham brewery, I then had a half of a beer called “Plum pudding” (4%) (which is a curious brew that’s for sure). Swiftly I followed this up with a pint of cider, “Ruby Tuesday” (6.3%), which is like drinking Quosh and is, as you’d expect, bright red. Finally, I happend upon Kriek.

Kriek is a fruit-based beer, which should be for the ladies, naturally. It’s just the 6 per-cent and is available to you, sir, at £2 for a half-pint. It’s dark, thick, reddy-brown and tastes fantastic. Not too sweet, not too bitter, full of fruit. A real pleasure to drink, which is why, I guess, I feel like this.

Of course, last night was my frist try-out of the UK’s new “relaxed” licensing laws. So come 11pm, we were able to go buy more beer. The same is true of 11:15, 11:30 and 11:45. At midnight it was decided that enough was enough and we left (quietly) by the back door, which is what the landlord had asked us to do. I guess it’s part of their late license deal with the neighbours.

So logically, the only people to blame for my headache and general feeling of can’t be arsed-nes, are the Government. Bunch of bastards. I’d say “Let’s rise up and over-frow dem, bruvvers”, but I’d only get myself arrested for being a “radical”. So I won’t.

I also have a vague recollection of agreeing to make a cheesecake for Mr Turner. He was thinking of a “Topic” and brandy cheesecake. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

Honest.

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