A stout defence of a pint of plain
Naturally, an event of this kind could only be held in a public house. And so it was that my local bar in Coppeen was filled to capacity with all classes of thirsty brain-boxes, vying for the top spot.
Needless to say fun and craic was had by all.
In the company of my farming pals Dan Joe, Stephen and Jerry, we at our table pushed our brains to the absolute limit, answering questions that would put a budding Einstein to the test.
I consumed copious amounts of the black stuff in an effort to help lubricate the rusty cogs of my seldom-used brain. And while some, including my missus, might suggest that it is the drink and not the quiz that has my head throbbing, I beg to differ.
The brain is like any old engine you might find in a farmer’s yard: no matter how well designed it may be, the thing won’t function properly without lubrication.
Stout has always been my lubrication of choice when it comes to the difficult business of table quizzes and to be fair, it has never let me down.
Obviously, as usual our table failed to win the thing outright but we came in a very respectable third-last out of a field of 20. So nothing to be ashamed of there. In fact we have often done far worse.
Even with a well lubricated brain, nobody was expecting miracles.
So now here I am this morning, with my brain still totally wound up after a night of bewildering questions. What I really need to do is unwind.
And would you believe it? I have found over the years that there is no better place to go to unwind than down the local.
So tonight I will once again return to the place that held all the tension and excitement last night. However, this time, instead of using the porter to stimulate all kinds of brain neurons I will be using it to slow down the head and ease the pounding.
Isn’t it extraordinary what medical miracles can be performed with nothing more than a pint of plain?
