Paperjam

The Great British Beer Festival

Drink // Jim // 10th August 2004

Someone really funny must work for the London Underground advertising department. That is the only reason I can think of for placing an advert sensitively suggesting that men suffering from erection difficulties should speak to their GP adjacent to a loud proclaimation that Ben and Jerry's ice cream is CRAMMED FULL OF CREAM.

Ben and Jerry: laughing in the face of your impotence

After spotting this I laugh like a big girl for ages, causing Steve and Jim W to do likewise. We are rewarded with scornful glances from our fellow tube passengers until I brilliantly suggest that we get off at Earls Court and walk towards Olympia in the baking sun. Eventually we meet a humourously attired Vanessa with our free tickets outside the imposing Olympia buildings that are hosting the Great British Beer Festival; An event for some scary, bearded men to give the easily impressionable very strong alcoholic drinks. Apparently they got the idea from Michael Jackson.

Anyway after bundling in and meeting the rest of Vanessa's crew including a jovial Garry, who I am happy to report didn't seem frustrated at all, it is time to start trying the various brews available. The following list has been pieced together as best as we could:

What a beer festival looks like

"Lola"
The ladies (or lady boys?) choice we are told, don't know what it was like but it seemed to produce massive embarrassment in the drinker.

"La chouffe"
A sprint start for the paper-jam contingent with this cheeky little number. A bit like fortified wine made out of the bit in the middle of lockets. Eye-watering and highly alcoholic judging by how attractive I am starting to find the one-eyed hunchback woman who is giving me the eye (literally).

"Belvoir Mild"
Sounds foreign and exciting, but it was actually just Mild from the Midlands. Quite nice, steady and dependable really, like the mirror image of wife-beating Stella Artois. Do you want a bad simile? Ok then: Marmite Slippers.

"Lambriek"
This came from Holland, a country we really should be more suspicious of on this showing. Even the bloke on the stand tried to warn us off this one. Had an aftertaste which was reminiscent of going down on a car battery (we've all been there haven't we?). Quote from me: "I am going to finish this, if only to see what it does to me".

"Orval"
The geographic details of this one have been forgotten. Like a roguish figure in a romantic novel it was dark and mysterious...

"Hobson's Choice"
To be honest we only went for this one because we all did the book/play at school. Bitter from East Anglia, like you would be if you came from there.

"Storm Damage"
Sounds like it should be ace but was just more bitter really, by now I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"Mahorall"
Cider from Shropshire which tasted like water. Probably brewed by people who still live with their parents and have serious discussions in the pub about whether a +10 Sword of Wounding is more desirable than a Mace of Critical Damage.

"German beer beginning with K, I think"
"Very strong, went well with a pork pie" cites paper-jam's food expert before coming over all paisley.

Eventually it is six o'clock and time to go, we decamp to the Bat and Ball to meet up with other friends and (nearly) family while ordering pints of water with Lager chasers. Miracle of miracles the Coventry game is on the TV as we settle down. Shortly afterwards the miracle count goes off the scale as Coventry snatch all three points thanks to a tidy penalty from Patrick "The Magician" Suffo and a last minute effort from our Man Utd loan striker. Hooray.

This is the highpoint of my evening due to various factors, including:
- The heat
- The effects of afternoon drinking, stalking me relentlessly like Yul Brynner in Westworld and then doing the macarena just behind my eyes.
- The most annoying bouncer ever in a pub in Covent Garden.

Fortunately we are, once again because we didn't learn last time, staying at the luxurious Generator hostel where peaceful R&R will no doubt be assured. Unfortunately we can't get into our room due to some precision door engineering earlier in the day (fucked lock, code changed). In no time the Generator has their top men on the case; A karaoke Michael Jackson and the man with the smallest, most pointless toolbox I have ever seen, are dispatched to hang around for a bit looking puzzled while one of them walks round the corner to sing "Billie Jean".

Finally a right smug bastard turns up with the right code, "Hey, who broke the door?" he chirps. I lose my sense of humour at this point and he disappears rapidly leaving the three of us to enjoy one of the sweatiest nights of my life. Oh yes.

So what have we learnt?

- Real ale is strong, strong stuff.
- If you ever need to phone the erection problem hotline, make sure you write down the number from the right advert.
- Judging the consistency of your shit is an important barometer to your overall health.
- The Russian mafia have taken over the greasy spoon trade in central London. It's a Stalinist regime of frosty service and chips with your breakfast, whether you like it or not capitalist pig-dog.
- Americans only eat baked beans for lunch, Y'alll.

Some nice pictures...

Vanessa: Paisley, Pork Pies

Jim W and Jim: Foolish, Car Battery Compulsion

Steve: Mild, Spannered

Links Sans Frontieres...

CAMRA web site

Grow a beard, understand what "specific gravity" means, get trolleyed

Hangover web site

Don't fucking know, don't fucking care