Friday 16 October
I loathe so very many things, that I could not really get away with starting this entry off: “there is nothing I loathe more...” But one of the many things I truly loathe is people who lean on the buzzer to the flat. This is the worst possible way to persuade me to switch energy provider, take on board a new set of religious beliefs or get me to do anything about the fact that Flat 3 have ordered a curry but aren't answering their door. So when, earlier this evening, a ‘zzzzz’ sounded, followed by a further and ongoing ‘ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ’, I practically ripped the intercom off the wall and screamed "WHAT!" so loudly that roosting birds flew out of trees and somewhere in Antarctica a great chunk of ice shelf splintered free, crashed into the ocean and raised sea levels a few millimeters.
“I take parcel in for you” came a very meek voice. Bloody marvellous so now I’m angry and I have to be contrite all at the same time. I stumped down the stairs. Why is it that I’m only ever required to answer the door when wearing one sock, inside out zebra-striped pajama bottoms and a T-shirt with an ancient SuperNoodle welded to it? One of the impossibly delicate Japanese students from Flat 2 stood in the hallway, holding a box almost the size of Flat 2 itself. I apologised with such over-compensatory kindness and sincerity that she promptly fled (probably to chain the door and put a chair behind it), and I set about hefting the bloody thing back upstairs. I shouldn't call it a bloody thing: I love big parcels. My two favourite things in the world are big parcels and being met unexpectedly off trains. The latter naturally involving people I like – not, say, the FBI.
Sawing the parcel open with a bread knife, 24 bottles of alcohol-free beer from The Alcohol Free Shop were eventually revealed to me, courtesy of a most thoughtful and supportive Mrs Cohen, who was feeling my pain re the endless pints of Diet Coke. Thank you Mrs Cohen: to you, I dedicate Day 17. Well, it was all a little bit like Christmas (but without the name-calling, drama and tears) as I slipped bottle after bottle from their cosy pockets of shredded paper and marvelled.
Name me an alcoholic beer… yes, Kaliber. Now name me another one. OK – Becks Blue: you have been reading this blog after all. Anything else. Was that a Cobra Zero from someone at the back, go on... what else? Let me tell you what else. How about Holsten Pils, Sagres Zero, Stella NA (not applicable?), Biltberger Drive, Super Bock, Cheers, Krombacher Non-Alcoholic. I could go on. And, actually, not a Kaliber to be found in this astonishingly mixed selection. Thank you Mrs Cohen and thank you The Alcohol Free Shop (John at The Alcohol Free Shop has emailed to say he hopes I am kind to their beers, and provided they do not make me retch, I will do my best). In fact, this now gives rise to a new feature of this blog: non-alcoholic beer of the day. Oh yes. I have duly slipped a selection into the fridge to chill in preparation…
Units dodged: Zero. One of those quiet Friday nights of exhaustion where putting the kettle on is as strenuous as it gets and you already know you just won’t have the energy to handle a hangover the next day.
Non-alcoholic beer of the day: Jupiler Zero. A Belgian beer that I drank just after a Becks Blue, which meant it didn’t fare quite as well as it might have done drunk on its own. It’s sweeter, fruitier and fizzier than the Becks, but it doesn’t have the bite or the hoppy aftertaste. I’d still rather drink this than a Diet Coke though, and it might be good for anyone who prefers a clean taste and is a bit put off by the burnt toastedness of a Becks. What I do love most about the Jupiler is their website. Ladies stop reading now and go and do your housework…
“Jupiler has an outspoken image of masculinity, courage and adventure. Furthermore, Jupiler understands men like no other brand and shares their best moments. This combination of male bonding, self-confidence and self-relativation, speaks to all men and makes Jupiler an ally on their road through life.”
Brilliant. Not a lady-beer then? I feel I should rebel and drink this whilst scratching my crotch, belching and eating a Yorkie...
The Unit Dodger
So this is where I've gone wrong. I need Jupiler *resists need to sing Jennifer Juliper* in my life. I feel emasculated without it.
ReplyDeleteHave you ever had Kaliber btw? It tastes how I would expect urine to taste. Billy Connolly lies like a cheap whore.
Mrs C - Juliper is fine but there is better to be had. Kaliber does not feature in my selection pack, but I have not heard especially good things about it either. What you need is a nice, cold Super Bock…
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