About Me

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Manchester, United Kingdom
Tyson is a beer hound and cheese addict living in the beery metropolis paradise known as Manchester
If the people are buying tears, I'll be rich someday, Ma

Saturday, 8 March 2008

Carry on regardless

Thursday. Only Allagtes and Old Bear, both poor, in the Peel. What to do now? A message from Eddie, the eager, legal, beagle. Could I meet him to discuss the Relief of Mafeking? Never one to turn down such an opportunity, I agreed. So it was we endured another evening battling humulus lupulus. The Stomach, who was regaling us with his adventures in the Boer War, experimented with pretty much the full range before declaring Tempus Fugit the most palatable. Eddie and I, being veterans, went straight for Janine’s One, knowing it couldn’t last long. So it proved. With our considerable help, amongst much wailing, the cask eventually ran dry. Luckily, the replacement-O’Hanlon’s Yellowhammer was palatable enough to see out the rest of the night. Out of diligence, we tried Boggart Angel Hill. Thank God we only had a taster. This was phenol rich and an unbelievably bad beer. How do they get away with brewing such crap beer?

Again we were witnesses to the ebb and flow of customers. Faces, old and new, streamed past. Joe Stalin even stopped by for a chat. Now the only problem in being a celebrity beerhound is that the great unwashed will often approach you. So it was that Eddie and I found ourselves (yet again), assailed by disconcerted Camra members. It wasn’t long before we were beaten by the clock once again, leaving Eddie to head home into the arms of the Manx Minx, and me to grab a nightcap at the Sam.

TGIF. More of the same, really. An early finish meant I could catch up with the Whitefield Holts Bandit. He was looking for solace in alcohol, and that’s as good a reason as any for a bit of bar flying. Several ales were sampled-Bradfield Stout wasn’t bad and Anglo-Dutch Spikes on t’way (4.2%) was fresh, light, and fruity. However, Marble J.P Best (4.3%) proved especially appealing. Eddie, the eager, legal, beagle popped in after work and was soon joined by Dave the Rave. Both of them are notoriously fishy buggers and were obviously planning an evening of drunken debauchery. Luckily, my evening engagement meant that I didn’t have to witness their nefarious deeds.

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