Opening Lines

THE eyes have it. Blear. The previous night could be described as having been ‘a heavy one’.

Some drinking took place but not a ruinous amount. Those days are long gone. It was just a night of good company and talk. Although, according to the World Health Organisation standards, it was technically an episode of binge drinking but, sure what would they know? How could you go on a session with one of them lads? They’d be there in your white coats looking at you judgementally with their binge-o-meter. How do they expect Irish males to progress a conversation past “Did you see the match last night?” if we’re afraid of tipping into binge territory as soon as we get warmed up? Gah! World Health Organisation — WHO do they think they are anyway? After a bout of self-delusion, I remember something that immediately makes me feel better. I was drinking craft beer.

This put a whole new complexion on things. A hangover after a night on one of the multinational brands makes you feel dirty. You’ve once again been manipulated by their insidious advertising campaign involving a man-child doing a silly dance or running down a snowy mountain. But drinking craft beer? That’s practically an act of patriotism. Since each pint takes one person a year to hand-carve, you are creating a whole job by drinking it. Contrast that with the non-craft variety where a tree is cut down just for the sheer badness of it.