There are a few things in life that should never be meddled with, two of which are a mans pot of tea, and his pint of ale. Fortunately we forge our own destiny in as far as our preference for tea goes (I once almost barfed and had a seizure, when I was given a pot of herbal fruit tea for breakfast). The mistake was never repeated as I almost tore the hotel down to its foundation stones. I hereby make no apology, for once again presenting my favourite strong and hard hitting blend for your your perusal, Yorkshire Tea.
This early morning as I sat eating my breakfast, I turned the page to a story in the paper. It stated scientists have dabbled, and come up with a solution to cure hangovers. They have messed with the good Lord’s fermentation, which will end the hangover completely; this is taking a liberty, a beer that won’t give you a hangover They have gone too far this time.
‘I am the man that I am today,’ due to the suffering of hangovers. From the dainty little pain across a furrowed brow, after drinking French beer all evening. To the almighty blockbuster, after sinking a gallon or so of ‘Old Peculiar’ that would split a battleship lengthways down its keel, and sink all of its cork lifebelts…
Whether in celebration of the Corps Birthday 28 October 1664, or the Battle of Trafalgar 21 October 1805. Through a long evening partaking in Pusser’s Nelson’s Blood, fine Port and a gallon of ale, I have suffered colossal, mountainous, throbbing brain pains the following morning. Of which had the capacity to kill a field full of mules, or sink the French fleet at sea, and flounder every French matelot there about it.
Yet through the mighty pain and the fog of aching miserable dullness, I have always managed the following morning’s daily routine, hard physical training, and otherwise. Dealing with the hangover that follows, is part of the rite of passage into manhood, its what separates the men from the boys. Scientists and their technology are turning todays young men into ‘Lady-boys’. This, as well as ‘Designer’ skinny jeans, skinny sweaters, man bags, and canvas slipper shoes.
Yours Aye (who is heading down to the Nag’s Head for a pub lunch, I may be some time)!