The Munich Oktoberfest that annual salute to the delights of beer is a truly unique event. So much so that Ken Lupton of Thwaites is convinced that Britain could never hope to copy it Iwas fortunate enough to visit the Munich Beer Festival the other week and what a fantastic celebration of the wonderful world of beer. The Germans although I understand it's particularly the Bavarians take their beer very seriously indeed. If there's a brewing equivalent of vorsprung durch technic, it will hail from Munich. Six million people, over three weeks, drank the annual output of a small British brewery in vast tented villages holding up to 10,000 people each, while a 17-piece band played everything from Abba singalongs to German marching songs. We marvelled at the upper body stature of the beautiful waitresses in national dress, carrying four litre glasses of beer in each hand I believe one of them even has my colleague's phone number and a promise of a job. We admired the way that young and old were mixing and obviously enjoying each other's company. We loved the heady mix of beer, food and music served in such an infectiously carousing atmosphere. While travelling home, I tried to think of a British equivalent to this wonderfully intoxicating event... I couldn't. Even if I could, I'm sure it would look and feel very different. First, the planners would be apoplectic about the suggestion that such an event could even be contemplated in the first place, so let's assume we're five years down the track and they have gone away. Not so lucky with the environmental health officers, though. You can image them saying: "This tent will hold 7,500 people and you'll have to count them all in and count them all out. We'll do spot checks and if we find there's 7,501, we'll throw the book at you. You'll need a licence if you're planning any rhythmical movement. "We want 20 doormen on all entrances, they must all look like gorillas, have no detectable sense of humour and be registered with some association that will charge you an arm and a leg. And you certainly can't cook chickens on an open flame in a tent. "And what about these girls carrying eight litres of beer at a time? Do you have their training records in manual lifting? They could slip, fall or trip on the stairs they are forced to negotiate. Where's the risk assessment documentation? I think we'll have to take a closer look at this. That music's too loud do you have a noise limiter? And you can't really be serious about people smoking in a tent." All in all, the EHOs will probably come to the conclusion: "This whole thing is a daft idea. It's dangerous, it encourages binge drinking, it will be a noise nuisance for local residents, there's insufficient access for the disabled, our gay and lesbian friends will feel excluded from such a boorish event, and there's just far too much paperwork involved anyway." Perhaps I exaggerate to make a point, but not much. I'm sure our friends in Germany share all the concerns for public well-being that our British administrators do, but they do seem to have a lighter touch with the rule book. This allows these events to flourish rather than collapse beneath the weight of bureaucracy, as so often happens over here. There's a feeling of people working together to have a good time rather than one group trying to have a good time while another group imposes conditions. The only trouble I saw involved a wife, a husband and a waitress. Had the wife's right hook connected with its target, the husband would certainly have woken up with more than just a hangover. But it didn't and she spun around thrashing aimlessly at thin air until she hit the floor, still using language that needed little translation. The waitress ignored the whole thing and set to work with her beer, as did everybody else. People were there to enjoy themselves and they were not going to be distracted. Of course, these are reflections upon a short stay in a foreign country, at an internationally renowned festival, but there was a difference of approach. There were fewer impediments to enjoying yourself; there was less of the nanny state; and there was an underlying belief that people had the sense to enjoy themselves without being chaperoned and cocooned every inch of the way. Back in the office, I recalled the words of a lager advertisement from a few years back: "What a refreshing change". l Ken Lupton is retail operations manager of Thwaites Inns
