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Preface: This was originally written back in February 2009, but I never finished it as I didn’t try the Guinness Stout. It needs a little bit of proof-reading and more teh-funnies injecting into it here and there, but here it is anyway.

Alcohol is the liquid of choice for people that want to die. At least that’s how I think the tag line should go. I sort of bypassed the whole drinking-til-you-spew phase that so many teenagers go through, which is why I haven’t accepted the alcoholic taste as something a human should have to endure without torture of the plums being involved.

I watched a 3-part TV programme called Neil Morrissey’s Risky Business that had wot’s-his-face and some chef I never heard of called Richard Fox embark on a dream of theirs to get a new beer/ale into the UK market. It began with them setting out to buy a pub with the facility of having an on-site micro-brewery all the way up to pushing the beer-cum-ale onto the market via a supermarket chain – Tesco, in this case. The series seemed to end abruptly for some reason, but anyway, I decided to give their Blonde Ale a go. While purchasing, I thought I might as well grab a couple of others while I was at it to give me an excuse of writing this very post you’re reading right now.

I only bought three: Morrissey Fox Blonde Ale, Strongbow Sirrus, and Guinness Stout. I didn’t bother with any more as I was pretty certain that they’d go down the sink in the end. Okay, let’s start with…

Morrissey Fox – Blonde Ale

Off came the cap so I could give it a quick smell, and, yeah, it’s that standard beer whiff. So I’m already not looking forward to it, unfortunately. It’s supposedly very weak as a beer or ale, so this is one of the reasons why I decided to try it first.

Truly disgusting. Even worse, the after taste! Oh my friggin’ god! It’s like someone has boiled a whole load of compost and bottled the ploppy liquids. The label on the bottle says it’s “Light and refreshing with a full body and flowery nose”. It should probably say “Distilled donkey cack with the aromatic after-taste of rotting corpse”.

I don’t suppose I can entirely pin the minging taste on the beer/ale itself as they all seem to have that initial spunky cock explosion of taste, but the after-taste on this one is entirely new. After a few minutes it gets really bitter, bitter to the point I can only describe it as if I had been chewing on a bike’s warm inner-tube after a bout of furious cycling.

I left the bottles of Satan’s Piss in the fridge for a few days to ensure they were all nice and cool as I know how well the cold dulls flavours. I can’t imagine the horror of Morrissey Fox’s Blonde Ale if it wasn’t fridged up the wazoo. It would be like warm cack ‘n’ corpse, I’d guess.

I managed to drink under 100ml of the 500ml bottle before I had to pour it down the bog. I’m going to have to find myself a Toilet Grenade to purify the crapper, now.

Strongbow Sirrus (Cider)

Cider, hay? Okay, I’m not looking forward to this as cider has the stigma of being the alcohol of choice for chavvy-pikey scum and we all know the dodgy crud they like to shove down their gobs. Plus, I’m fairly sure I’ve had cider before and I hated it. But, enough of the preamble, let’s try this mother out…

Cap removed, quick sniff and yeah – it smells like your standard alcohol. The clear glass bottle and bright orange liquid give the impression that you’re about to drink a citrus nectar from the gods themselves. Oh sir, how wrong I was. The very first small sip I took didn’t taste too bad; the alcoholic taste was there, but less pronounced. I wrote the above paragraph and then took a much bigger gulp and, aye, it tasted like a standard disgusting weirdly-sweet lager.

Sirrus seems to activate the gag reflex in me quite easily; I suspect this is the alcoholic equivalent of sucking off a tramp with a big warty cock.

The vapour seemed to hang around in my throat for a few seconds after swallowing, and each time I was sure I was going to be sick. The alcohol taste seems to get much stronger each time I took a drink; I’m banking on being to power a car with my piss at this rate once I’ve finished the bottle.

Except I poured it down the sink. There’s no way I’m even going to attempt to finish this. Eugh.

Pimm’s & Lemonade

We have a bonus girlie drink! It was there, so I took it. Wanna fight about it? This is apparently the No1 Cup they do. I’ve read about the cups thing they did, and No1 is based on gin. Which I’ve never had before. The can has been designed to sort of look like a standard soft-drink, so how bad can it be?

Holy christ, it can be damn bad. I opened it and bubbles came pouring it – and like a good panic-ee, I stuck my gob over it. And coughed. Just the weedy little bubbles tasted like pure concentrated rape, so actually drinking this mess is going to be fun. Oh yes, there we go… the familiar spirit taste. The initial glug isn’t that bad; it’s just the after-taste that makes it taste like a hobo’s hair-matted armpit.

Hello sink; once again we meet under stressful conditions.