Another pint, you filthy binge drinker?

I read an interesting item of news today about breweries.

Apparently, there are now 711 breweries in the UK today – the highest number since the last World War, the largest number in any industrialised nation and 10% up on last year’s figures.

I had a few pints of this one night last week at a gig we played – Purity Pure Gold: a nice clean, crisp, golden summer type ale and only 3.8% ABV, so a rather good choice if, like me, you prefer several weaker beers to a couple of strong ones.

It’s a good example of one of the wide range of interesting beers produced by these new breweries that are popping up all over the place.

On a less cheerful note, the same article once more stated the sad fact that 50 pubs a week are closing up and down the country, which makes you wonder if some of the beers produced by these 711 breweries are ever going to gain any sort of popularity if there’s nowhere to drink them.

Well, it hasn’t quite come to that – yet – so we can all carry on quaffing some good old English ale, can’t we?

Well…no, actually.

Not much of it anyway.

My pints of Purity last week – 5 of them spread over about 4 hours – would now be classed as binge drinking.

I can’t recall losing control, glassing the barman, having unprotected sex with a stranger, coming home and beating the missus or driving into a handy group of orphans standing at a bus stop and neither did I wake up with a hangover.

Mind you, perhaps I did all those things but I had a blackout due to my excessive drinking.


No, I’m sure I just went out, played a gig, , sank a few pints, had a few laughs with my fellow bandmates and then went safely home to sleep, before putting in a full day decorating the hall and landing.

I’ve just checked with an uninjured Mrs Shark who assures me that I arrived home sober, unbloodied, free from the telltale odour of furtive shagging and, as I hadn’t taken the car, that a charge of slaughtering some orphans in a horrific hit-and-run incident wasn’t likely to be brought against me anytime soon.

Unless, of course, I was so shitfaced falling-down drunk that I stole a car…


Phew…I’ve just remembered I don’t know how to steal a motor.

After reading this alarming statement here

Statistically-speaking, if you’re completely wasted you’re more likely to harm yourself by falling into bushes or stepping out into moving traffic

…Mrs Shark also told me that I didn’t come home with  tyre tracks on my chest or a tree branch up my arse, so that was a bit less to fret about.

So, I reckon my 5 pints were pretty harmless.

But no, I’m a binge drinker, the type of antisocial bastard that will scarce turn a hair at glassing a barman, having unprotected sex with him – sex before or after glassing’s all the same to me because I’m fucking hammered – and then go home and be a cunt there.

Why am I classed as a binge drinker?

Because I drank more than twice my average daily units.

Just one of the increasingly prolific ‘measures’ of safe alcohol consumption levels that the medical advisors to the government and the BMA like to spew out every so often.

It’s 21 units for an adult male like myself.

Twice my daily limit is 6 units and my 5 pints of Purity were about three and a half times my ‘safe’ daily guideline average.

But surely, I hear you ask, as you vainly try to hide your piss-stained trousers and vomit-encrusted t shirt and suck a Polo to take away your Stella breath, these guidelines are scientifically-proven and medically sound?

Well, no.

Guidelines on safe alcohol consumption limits that have shaped health policy in Britain for 20 years were “plucked out of the air” as an “intelligent guess”.

The disclosure that the 1987 recommendation was prompted by “a feeling that you had to say something” came from Richard Smith, a member of the Royal College of Physicians working party that produced it.

He told The Times that the committee’s epidemiologist had confessed that “it’s impossible to say what’s safe and what isn’t” because “we don’t really have any data whatsoever”.

Mr Smith, a former Editor of the British Medical Journal, said that members of the working party were so concerned by growing evidence of the chronic damage caused by heavy, long-term drinking that they felt obliged to produce guidelines. “Those limits were really plucked out of the air. They were not based on any firm evidence at all. It was a sort of intelligent guess by a committee,” he said.

So, let’s see, we have a record number of new breweries which have fewer and fewer pubs to supply, but we are being told to drink less and stay within alcohol consumption guidelines that were drawn up by a working party of cuntwafts in 1987 that arrived at the figure after a ‘sort of ‘intelligent guess’ based on no data ‘whatsoever’.

Nothing wrong here, is there?

You know what?

Fuck it.

Fuck them all.

I’m going to have a beer.

Then I’m going to have another one.

Then I might even have a third…