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Binge drinking has been a major topic this year, but a look at the Daily Mirror reveals that we've been here before.PHIL DIXON explains
I have undoubtedly sat through my fair share of Licensed Victuallers Association annual banquets. Indeed, it is rather amazing how many LVA chairmen's speeches start with the sentence "It's been another tough year for the trade", before going into detail about the local robbing, dubious-parentage brewery company directors, who could make Ali Baba and his 40 chums appear benevolent. The only delicate matter is that these same individuals would be sat 4ft away and be the main sponsors of the evening.
This year has not been so much tough as depressing, saved only for those of us who believe it is wrong to condemn a generation to three-monthly visits to the dentist by the decline of alcopop sales. Politicians (John Grogan excepted) have got me rather miffed with their gluttony of jibes andcheap headlines after discovering that there was suddenly, in 2004, an issue with "binge drinking". The fact that thousands of licensees and their families retail responsibly and provide an essential service, as well as undertaking charitable works all across Britain, has been all but conveniently ignored by those elected to govern us.
Knowing a few of them from my distant student past, I am tempted to ask them: "Did we not go out, get legless, pursue the opposite or in some cases the same sex, in a hedonistic desire to grapple' intimately and even experiment with the odd recreational drug?" How else would the Incredible String Band have sounded incredible?!
I rarely pick up a copy of the Daily Mirror, but, being passed one the other day, I could not help but notice the front-page headline: "Teenagers and drink". The article described how a Labour MP had raised the issue of the excessive drinking of young people. The Home Secretary, citing the concerns of chief constables, had promised an inquiry.
The MP was Arthur Henderson (Labour, Rowley Regis), the Home Secretary being Major Lloyd George. The date? Friday 29 July 1955.
Pork snack claim is a load of Bull
On the subject of dailies, there has been much chuckling in the vicinity at the expense of the Daily Telegraph. Its pub reporter wrote a feature on Batham's breweries' flagship, the Bull & Bladderat Brierley Hill in the West Midlands.
It was on a par with David Livingstone discovering primitive tribes in the African hinterland; one of those public schoolboy meets the workers' pieces. Allegedly, the reporter was fascinated by the fact that the locals call the Bull & Bladder the Vine. He ordered a pint of mild (what bozo comes all that way and does not try the award-winning bitter?) and then requested: "I say, could I possibly have a bag of those jolly good local pork scratchings, except I don't suppose you call them that do you?"
"Yom right theer, them known as Black Country nuts," replied the barman keeping as straight a face as possible. The end result being that the million or so readers of the Daily Telegraph now genuinely believe Black Country nuts are pork scratchings.
Hooker, line and sinker
I had a great day out with Everards last month at Welford Road to watch the Tigers. I have always been impressed by operations director Stephen Gould "one of the human beings at Punchduring the Osmond years". He has made quitean impact since moving to Leicestershire's favourite brewery.
I was intrigued as to how he would dress for the occasion. At Punch, the dress code appears to be a mixture of casual and Big Issue sales personnel.
Well, I was amazed. Stephen was resplendent in finest Swadlincote tweed with almost matching simulated moleskin trousers. For a moment he could have passed for a member of the family beerage except that the jacket seemed to fit and had not been worn by his grandfather. He also failed on the elocution front pronouncing "off" as "off" and not "orrff".
The day got better when the beloved one won a Martin Johnson et al signed shirt in my size (BFB). She blushed profusely as she received it (along with two kisses) from injured Tigers No.2 George Chuter, accompanied by the flashing of cameras.
"May I ask the lady's name?" requested the PR lady. "It's for the local Mercury."
In a moment of attempted humour, I said Ididn't know the exact name as I had not wished to attend unaccompanied and had contacted a local escort agency for the event. "Just put Hooker meets hooker'," I suggested.
The beloved one was not amused.
Bash packs a Punch
On the subject of senses of humour, you have to hand it to Punch Taverns. The end-of-year bash is to take place in Sherwood Forest with a Robin Hood theme. Punch lessees will note there are no Sheriff of Nottingham costumes available within 120 miles.
Apparently the director who is coming as Richard the Lionheart is having second thoughts after discovering how he neglected and milked his estate, put thousands of innocents to the sword and indulged in dodgy sexual preferences.
But if the cap fits?
Merry Christmas!
phildixonCMBII@aol.com
