Beer-Funny Photos

Confucius say ...

If you can’t find the book you are looking for,
Then you are probably shopping at the ...



Thanks to Mrs Pilsner for passing this one on to me.

Cheers
Prof. Pilsner

An Ode - or an Omen - for the Pies

For my good mate, Dr Lager and all those other Pie Tragics hoping for redemption tomorrow against The Saints, here is a specially dedicated post. As a normal person who barracks for neither team, I'm hoping for a nil-all draw, but, in Melbourne at this time of year you just have to have an opinion one way or the other.

Here's mine. I DON'T LIKE St Kilda a bit more than I DON'T LIKE Collingwood. So ... GO PIES!!

But to put a liitle perspective, nay, reality, on the matter here are the lyrics to one of my favourite songs by legendary Melbourne outfit, Weddings, Perties, Anything that sums it all up nicely I think.

By the way, if every Collingwood supporter is going to be watching the Grand Final tomorrow ... who will operate all the rides at The Royal Melbourne Show?

"TOUGH TIME"

“Well it’s Black or White – it’s lose or win
It’s Collingwood, uh-oh they’ve been done again”





It’s a sad, sad night, down at Vicky Park
I see the crowds roll out, into the cold and dark
And every pub in Johnson Street is full up to the brim
And the fists are clenched, the feet are stampin’
The faces oh so grim
My Dad gets home he just won’t talk ‘Hey Mum, what’s wrong with him?’

“Well you can call it Black, you can call it White
There’ll be a tough time in the old town tonight”

My Dad is dealing out some bitter chips
Us kids we’re eatin’, we’re eatin’ fish & chips
He’s watching telly, is he insane?
It’s the football replay and he goes through it all again

“But you can call it Black, you can call it White
There’ll be a tough time in the old town tonight
There’ll be a tough time in the old town tonight”

Now on Sunday morning, so quiet it seems
Nobody heard our poor Mother’s screams
Nor saw the Police car coming through the night
But Mum just cried and she just said that she would be alright

Now Dad just goes about his business like it’s all the same
The cat’s run off, the chooks won’t lay, the old black dog went lame
And if I open my big mouth he says; “look, it’s just a game!”

“Well you can call it Black, you can call it White
There’ll be a tough time in the old town tonight
There’ll be a tough time in the old town tonight
There’ll be some drinkin’ at the old hotel tonight
There’ll be a tough time down in Carringbush tonight”

... tough time in the old town tonight!
... tough time in the old town tonight!
... drinkin’ at the old hotel tonight!
... tough time down in Carringbush tonight!

“You better not laugh, you better not cry, I’m tellin’ you why!”
Tonight!

Nice, but where’s the beer?

After a late finish on both Friday and Saturday night I was looking forward to a lazy Sunday morning with no real obligations.

All was well with the world, my Melbourne Storm had posted a (pointless) win against the Raiders up in Canberra the night before and my Hawks, though struggling in recent weeks, were drawn to play Richmond later in the day and the game was being shown live. There was reason to believe we wouldn’t break our five game losing streak as the Tigers had shown solidarity with the Storm boys and were committed to playing out the rest of the season for no points. The lawns were mowed and the house was clean and the girls were going out during the day.

I sorted through the papers, plucking out the sport sections, opinion bits and the magazines, chucking out the real estate, cars guide and travel section. I live in a house, I just bought a new car and, therefore, I can’t afford to travel.

I picked up the M magazine and scanned the cover. “Hmm, that poncy-lookin’ bloke wearing the scarf indoors looks a bit of a knob but something seems ... familiar.” And then it hit me. “The poncy knob with the scarf is sitting in my Ale Stars seat! At The Taphouse!! In St Kilda!!!”

I raced around the house for a bit wanting to show everyone the picture until I remembered they were all out so I sat down with my coffee (I don’t drink beer ALL DAY! Ha) and had a better look. Then something else hit me. This bloke and his female company are both drinking red wine! In what might easily be argued is the country’s finest BEER BAR! I forgave this oversight as I figured it was just for the front cover so as not to scare off all those turtle-necked unemployed academics from buying the paper and scooted ahead to page eight.



“Now these bastards are sitting on the comfy couches under the big beer poster, with yet more red wine, still no beer and now they’re LAUGHING! They’re MOCKING US!!” To add insult to injury, the copy is trumpeting the beery virtues of The Local Taphouse as “one of the best beer bars around ... all set off by the perfect winter retreat.” I tell you now, if those freeloaders are still sittin’ in my seat tonight night the wine won’t be the only thing that’s red!

Seriously, though, it was some great exposure and a really nice photo and nice words and the guys at The Local Taphouse must be chuffed at the beautiful depiction of their heart and soul.

But extra seriously – next time put a beer in his hand or I’ll have to come down and ‘tighten his scarf’ for him.

Cheers,
Prof Pilsner


"Why so glum, Darling?" "No Beer, dear."

Four into Three won't go

A severe lack of free time and 'head-space' has meant little time for quality posting and so, rather than peppering the blog with random uninteresting posts I figured it was better to starve you all and make you keener for the return!

December this year is effectively a three week month with Christmas Day and Boxing Day taking up the fourth weekend and for the hospitality industry this means trying to squeeze four weeks of fun, frivolity and festiveness into three weeks. Which you can do. Kinda. Almost. But you end up working like a one-armed Beirut bricklayer and finish up as flat as a shit-carter's hat.

We hosted a wedding yesterday and, while local beers were included in the tab, a table of younger blokes saw our International Beer Passport and decided to dig into their own wallets and pick out a few specials. However, when they spotted one particular offering, a new game was begun. "Pete, can I buy an Old Fart and have you send it to the two blokes on table 2?" Much hilarity ensued and a return attack came in the form of a Sheepshagger Lager. A Fat Yak followed and defeat was finally admitted when 500 mls of both Old Growler and Sweet FA was sent over.

While I don't encourage drinking irresponsibly, it WAS pretty funny seeing the reactions from opposite sides of the room. The dark looks from the Bride and Groom were trimmed when I assured them that the Top Shelf beers were not finding their way onto the bill!

Goes to show you, though, that the name of the beer can sometimes have an impact on it's saleability.

Cheers
Prof. Pilsner

A Bloke and his kid walk into a pub

Had a nice story passed on to me by the Brother-In-Law which beautifully illustrates that mystical bond between a father and his son, that special, magical nexus that links the generations and creates a better world.

Oh, and it’s about beer, too.

A couple of friends – for purposes of protecting their identities, let’s call them Dave and Jo – had stopped off at a pub in Inverloch on the way back from a family holiday with their two kids. The three year old boy, let’s call him Sam, raced into the Public Bar ahead of the family so as to scope the joint and identify the location of the playground.

As the family caught up with the forward scout, Dave was greeted with a loud and excited announcement from his son.

“Dad! Awesome news!!”
“What is it, Sam?”
“They’ve got Horse Beer!!”

Dave caught up with the lad and sheepishly wove his way through the amused regulars and made his way to the bar.

“I ‘spose you’d like a Horse Beer, then mate?” said the smiling publican.

As the Brother-in-Law said to me, Horse Beer – or CUB’s Carlton Draught – is probably a beer that should not necessarily be dismissed out of hand. In fact, as mainstream, medium bodied beers go, a pot of Carlton Draught, rotated correctly, properly stored, well poured and thoughtfully presented to a thirsty man on a hot day is not the worst thing that could happen to you.

I hope that Sam’s enthusiasm for his Father’s simple pleasures continues to develop and that his parents encourage his sense of joy and wonder. And maybe down the track I will recount further tales like this involving ‘Goat Beers’, ‘Yak’ beers, ‘Ned Kelly’ beers or even ‘That beer with the Boobies on it’ beers.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

Now I can’t wait to get old

I love surveys. And studies. Any old grant-driven scientific research, really.

Do you know why? Because it’s pure entertainment. It is all about as relevant as the fifth placed finalist in Australian Idol, as important as Paris Hilton’s latest shopping trip, or as believable as Oprah and Dr Phil combined.

“Give us some cash and we’ll give you some stunning and world-altering figures about important social issues”, they say as they extend their grubby cash-grabbing hand.

“Give us even more cash and we’ll give you some even more stunning and more world-altering figures about important social issues which contradict the first!” With hand out.

Today I read that older Australians who have up to 28 drinks a week stand a better chance of warding off dementia than those who abstain. This data comes from 15 international studies involving more than 10,000 people so it’s not like one of those narrow, pissy little studies that trumpet mind-blowing results and then pop some figures into the fine print which show they phoned ten people or spoke to all the people on a bus one day.

Folk aged 60 or over who drank between one and 28 alcoholic drinks a week were almost 30% less likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease. This raises some very interesting questions. If I start drinking my 28 drinks per week BEFORE I’m 60, will the benefits be less – or will I just spontaneously combust? If I have 29 drinks, will the effects be reversed – or will my head just drop off? If I go one week without ANY DRINKS AT ALL will there be no ill effects at all – or will I suddenly forget my entire family as well as the ability to remember to remove my trousers before using the toilet? If I start before I turn 60 AND have more than 28 drinks will it be the same as swimming 29 minutes after eating rather than 30 minutes after eating? Will I walk into the surf and just explode?
>
Either way, I’m gettin’ an early start. Why wait till I’m 60? If I start now, surely my body will be better prepared for drinking into old age. After all, you don’t prepare for running a marathon by running a marathon! You have to do SOME training. Like the warning labels say – Excessive alcohol consumption can cause memory loss – or worse, memory loss.

Cheers – and drink up before the contradictory research is released,
Prof. Pilsner

"Ahs forgot to gets me a beer - Oh well, least I ain't BLACK!!"

What Am I?

For those on the edge of their seats waiting for the answer to the Beer Blokes 'What Am I?' question, here's the answer. Don't groan, don't swear and don't throw anything at your screen. The clue was; her name is Gail.

Belgian Blond Strong Gail

Political Correctness

I got some good response to my recent post about political correctness and dickheadedness and how somewhere along the way we lost our ability to laugh at ourselves and take even the tiniest adversity in our stride.

With that in mind, and as a sort of pre-emptive strike in the battle for common sense, here’s a funny gag I read somewhere. Please feel free to be offended. If I have left you out, my apologies.

How Moses got the Ten Commandments

God went to the Arabs and said, 'I have Commandments for you that will make your lives better.'

The Arabs asked, 'What are Commandments?'

And the Lord said, 'They are rules for living.'

'Can you give us an example?'

'Thou shall not kill.'

'Not kill? We're not interested.'

So He went to the Blacks and said, 'I have Commandments.'

The Blacks wanted an example, and the Lord said, 'Honour thy Father and Mother.'

‘Father? We don't know who our fathers are. We're not interested.'

Then He went to the Australians and said, 'I have Commandments.'

The Australians also wanted an example, and the Lord said 'Thou shall not steal.'

'Not steal? We're not interested.'

Then He went to the French and said, 'I have Commandments.'

The French too wanted an example and the Lord said, 'Thou shall not commit adultery.'

'Not commit adultery? We're not interested.'

Finally, He went to the Jews and said, 'I have Commandments.'

'Commandments?' They said, 'How much are they?'

'They're free.'

'We'll take 10.'

I hope I have covered most groups there. Please direct any complaints, threats, applications for Apprehended Violence Orders, civil rights and equal opportunity claims and sooky la-la comments to the following address;

www.idon’tgiveafatratsarse.org.au/hardenthef#@kup/haveabeerforgoodnesssake

Cheers,Prof. Pilsner

Desert Island Beers

At January’s Ale Stars at The Local Taphouse, Shandy, Chris and I got chatting at the bar afterwards to Kelv and Steve, two first time Stars. Kelv posed the question; “Choose three beers – any three – but these are the only beers you can have for the rest of your life.” Just like that.

This is that variation on your top ten albums (CDs for you Gen Xers and MP3s for the Gen Yers) to be stuck with on a deserted island or picking three chicks in a variation of the pub game; Who Would You Do? Any three beers – but that’s it.

I’d be interested to hear how our readers would go about this as there was a great deal of variance in how our participants took to the task. It’s all hypothetical and not restricted by the boundaries of reality so you can have bottled or kegged, chilled or cellar temperature – the island can cope with anything. Don’t take too long to nominate your stash, and don’t let anyone second guess you. Nor should you worry too much about your decision. It’s meant to be fun.

I went with the thinking that forever is a really, really, really long time so I would need three very different beers – not necessarily my top three favourites. I went with a Moo Brew Hefeweizen thanks largely to the fact that the brewer, Stuart Ritchie gave me a four pack when I visited and a fresh-as-fresh hefe first thing in the morning was an absolute delight. So there’s my breakfast beer sorted out.

I figured on having to choose another nice ‘meal’ beer – something with body, flavour and complexity for all those occasions where sustenance is more important than refreshment or for palate cleansing all those coconut cream pies that Maryanne would be making for me. (Yep, she’s one of my OTHER three) I narrowed my field down to a handful including a Grand cru from either Murray’s or Hoegaarden, a Red Hill Temptation Belgian ale – but then I remembered what I would choose as my third and changed my mind completely, going with a Bridge Road Brewers Pale Ale. I couldn’t go long without a Pale Ale. There’s lunch sorted.

Number three was a Weihenstephaner Pilsner – long time favourite and a great beer for lots of occasions. Just what occasions I’d be hosting on my deserted island, I’m not quite sure, but, you know ... you never know. Maybe Debbe Dunning (Heidi, the 2nd tool girl from Home Improvement) would turn up for dinner one day. (She’s ANOTHER – not giving away the third!)

It’s a more difficult task than you’d think and it’s perhaps as hard to pick the ones to leave out as it is to pick ‘the ins’ Drop us a comment with your three.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

A nice way to watch the cricket

The first one-day international of the season. A healthy rivalry between the Australian and South African teams. A sunny day that’s not too hot. A relaxing train trip into the MCG and a pocket full of free entry to the Cricket Victoria room in the Olympic stand with seats looking over the bowler’s arm. What could spoil THAT?

Well, if you are Dr Lager and you are moving house in a week and your wife is a chronic ‘de-clutterer’ at the best of times and she is also moving house in a week then ...

Dr Lager stands puzzled in front of his open wardrobe;
“Hey, Mrs Lager (not her real name) I have to wear a suit to the cricket, where is it?”
Mrs Lager;
“In that box.”
“What box?” (He appears more puzzled.)
“THE box.”
“WHAT box?!” (More puzzled and a little annoyed.)
“The box that I put all those other clothes in for the move.”
“The box that you packed clothes in that’s here in the wardrobe?” (Less puzzled, more annoyed simmering dread.)
“No. In the box that I put all those clothes in and that I got you to take to the storage garage which is half an hours drive away from here and which I asked you to label but I don’t think you did and so it would look the same as the twenty other boxes which are also in the storage garage. Why?”

*SCENE MISSING*

So I’m sitting on the train with Dr Lager and I’m admiring the suit jacket that ALMOST matched his semi-casual pants and I casually comment on the nice suit jacket. “That looks a lot like a suit jacket from the formal hire shop that we used to work in together, Dr Lager.”

“Yes, yes it is exactly like a suit jacket from the formal hire shop that we used to work in together, only back then I didn’t have to fork out SEVENTY #%ING BUCKS to hire it!!!!”

The Cricket Victoria room is a lovely spot from which to watch the cricket and the company includes many faces familiar to sports fans and cricket tragic alike. The beer is served with a smile from friendly staff and the meals and snacks are several standards above the over-priced fare on offer to the huddled masses. You can choose to sit inside and watch through the full length windows or make your way outside to the reserved-seating-very-nice-viewing area and contemplate just how lucky you are to be there.

Two things struck me that I will share with you. It is slightly unnerving, and at he same time oddly warming, to have the ordinary cricket fan (and some are very ordinary) look at you through squinted eyes from the other side of the glass wondering what sort of ‘suits’ are in there living it up large with the rich and famous. My eyes met one bloke who turned his nose slightly as if to say; ‘Cricket snobs’ and I returned a look that said; ‘Mate, I’m normally out there with you and I feel just a little like I’m a ‘cricket class traitor’, but, hey, free beer is free beer, so, you know, one-nil, mate.’

The second thing is; it is a really funny feeling to be served a light or mid-strength beer in a plastic cup from a suited bar attendant who calls you sir because that’s the only way to get a beer into the ‘outside’. And there is more than just a little Beer Karma returning when the same ordinary cricket fan walks past again and smirks to see the ‘suits’ drinking mid-strength from a plastic cup just the same as he has to. ‘Fair enough, I think to myself. One-all. What did you pay for yours? Hmmm. Two-One.’

At exactly that time, Beer Karma showed up again as the suited bloke next to us managed to let a full plastic cup of light beer drop dead-straight to the deck at his feet eliciting a crisp ’thunk’ akin to leather on willow but with the addition of aspirated lager showering his Armani trousers and those of his assembled guests. Now I know why they don’t let glass out of the room. Two-All.

A huge thank-you to Chris and Lazz for the invite as the day will hold many fond memories for many different reasons. From laughing at ‘over-refreshed’ ex test cricketers attempting to cough up a lung and launch a ‘ground strike’ from the other end at the same time in the gents toilets, to the almost surreal sight of seeing ex English test off spinner, John Emburey, graciously holding court with a large bloke called Scotty who plays in the fourths for a Geelong based team. The wily old bowler was so generous with his time for Scotty and his well-oiled mates and the scene was almost surreal with John offering advice on team success and Scotty following up with “A bloke once asked me what me ‘wagon wheel’ looks like and I told ‘im I ate it!! HAH!!”

The company was magnificent, the view of the game spectacular and the food and lager was very much appreciated.

And, as evidenced by Dr Lager’s suit jacket, there really is no such thing as a free lunch.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

Looking after your mates?

From the sunny sunshine state, Queensland, comes this story of Christmas spirit – looking to do well upon your fellow man. Not sure that I approve, but clever is clever. True story. Thanks Tim, for the tale.

Recently a routine police patrol parked outside a local neighbourhood tavernLate in the evening the officer noticed a man leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the car park for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing.After what seemed an eternity and trying his keys on five vehicles, the man managed to find his car which he fell into. He was there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off. Finally he started the car, switched the wipers on and off (it was a fine dry night), flicked the indicators on, then off, tooted the horn and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few cm, reversed a little and then remained stationary for a few more minutes as some more vehicles left.At last he pulled out of the car park and started to drive slowly down the road. The police officer, having patiently waited all this time, now started up the patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over and carried out a Breathalyser test. To his amazement the Breathalyser indicated no evidence of the man having consumed alcohol at all!Dumbfounded, the officer said 'I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the Police station this Breathalyser equipment must be broken.''I doubt it,' said the man, 'tonight I'm the designated decoy'.

Beer Blokes like a good story but we don’t promote drink driving.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

A Quick Beer Quiz

If (A) a beer bloke is home looking after a 4 year old and a 2 year old and;
(B) his wife and eldest are overseas for 3 weeks, and; (C) he has been to the market and to a very nice specialty beer shop and; (D) he was unable to decide on a specific beer and; (E) because he is only cooking for 3 and not 5, and this could be represented as a formula, then;

A + (4 +2) – ( W + 13 x 21 ) x 2 / (?) + 5 – 2 = ?

For answer see below.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

P.S. If you look closely you will see that there is plenty of food in the far bottom right hand little corner as well as some jam and shit on the top shelf, so it’s not like I’m neglecting the little ones. If you look closely at the middle shelf you will see that I am not neglecting me. If you look VERY closely at the middle shelf you will see that it is bending dangerously. I must go now, I have work to do.

P.P.S. If you look really, really closely you will see that the beer crisper is full as well.

Now that’s what I call coincidence!

I swear I didn’t rig this one. I swear I didn’t know about this story before I wrote the piece about the Kiwis. Seriously. Or sirrissly. Like in that other New Zealand show about nasty car smashes called Sirriss Crish Younut. I DO admit, however, that I took the piss out of the Kiwis in the bit called ‘Those Krazy Kiwis’.

I was scanning the paper yesterday morning having fed and watered the little Pilsners and this bit just jumped out at me and yelled, “You won’t believe this shit!”

Apparently some shopkeepers in Rodney, near Auckland, New Zealand have been tricked into accepting counterfeit $100 notes. Now this is amazing in itself because I haven’t met a Kiwi who could identify a REAL $100 note (Centrelink only pay out the dole in 50’s or lower) let alone know of someone who might visit their shop and HAVE a $100 note. But that is not the best bit.

The dodgy notes all had the same serial number. I can cop this because you would assume that even a counterfeiter who is as dumb as a bag of hammers would know enough to spread the notes around and not hand too many out at once. And, really, how many shopkeepers would check serial numbers. But this is not the best bit, either.

The notes all featured a slightly altered picture of the Queen. And when I say ‘altered’ I mean completely and ball-tearingly obviously altered. Old Liz was replaced by a picture of a sheep wearing a tiara. Siriss. The cops also stated that the notes were ‘crude forgeries’. Just in case you didn’t feel enough of a dick having just accepted dodgy counterfeits from a bloke who must surely have been giggling uncontrollably, now you hear that the notes were not even half decent. To make matters worse, the news was probably delivered by Constable Niville McEwen and Sinya Sergeant Ewen Mc Niville from Sirriss Crish Younit!

Sorry fellas, I have had a crack at you twice in a week. I promise I will make it up to you tomorrow when I buy some Monteith’s or some Mac’s or even a Steinlager. Can anybuddy lind me a hundred?

Cheers,

Prof. Pilsner

Day Seven of 21 without the wife and eldest. Just watching a lot of TV with the little ones because it's been so wet and cold out. I like some of the shows that they like. The Fairies is OK in small doses but I just can't work out whether Harmony or Rhapsody has the better cans. If I find out, I'll let you know.

The Beer Monkey

We have always attempted to spread the word about as many aspects of the Beer World as we can to you, our loyal readers and new friends. We have covered all sorts of beer related topics and shared the many joys that the wonderful amber liquid can bring and given a few random recommendations for what to drink.

Today we turn to the Dark Side of beer drinking and provide a warning for all who venture out into worlds unknown and who wish to explore the many wonders of the Big Night Out. Go in to a Slurpin’ Safari under prepared and you will come off second best. Or worse. Tread the path of the Night of the Long Lager without the right attitude and the results can be horrifying. Beware of the creatures that lurk in the beery shadows who would do you harm most foul should you disrespect them.

Some of these creatures are nasty and malicious, while others will do their very best to inflict some sort of physical harm upon your person, a sort of lasting bodily reminder of your indiscretions. But some are just mischievous and perhaps a little childlike in their attempts to befuddle you.

Beware the Beer Monkey.

Those who have met the Beer Monkey, like the brother-in-law, Chris, will tell tales of woe and regret after having crossed paths with this mythical imp. But they can tell the tales with a wry smile and a fond giggle; after the event. The Beer Monkey is a crafty foe; you will rarely see him until it is too late and he has struck. Playful and roguish, the Beer Monkey waits patiently for the drinker to achieve the requisite number of ‘beers down’ and then makes his move.

As Chris recalls of one memorable encounter; “After a very enjoyable night out recently, The Beer Monkey emptied my wallet and replaced the cash with a set of bongo drums. An unplanned purchase, sure, but a fine set of bongos nonetheless.”

Others have told of the mysterious acquisitions of late-night snack foods such as kebabs, falafels and ‘dirty water dogs’, on some occasions scoffing two or three when really only wanting one, and, in reality, needing none, what with the gut full of beer and all. Fortunately for them, they did not have long to wait before the karmic universal forces came into play and returned the said items with a violent flurry and an uncontrollable bout of laughter from your mates gathered ‘round.

The Beer Monkey can often be found lurking in the darkness next to dance floors at pubs, clubs, reception centres and function halls. When the unsuspecting victim has reached the point of no return, the Beer Monkey will cause unbridled mayhem by talking him, or her (but usually him) into a disgracefully uncoordinated display of embarrassing moves designed only to humiliate the dancer and, at best, amuse the dancees. God help us all if they manage to find the DJs microphone and start singing.

Feel free to share any stories of your own encounters with the Beer Monkey. I can’t help thinking that I will be able to crank out a couple more posts surrounding his cheeky exploits.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

Post Number One Hundred

Welcome to the special 100th Beer Blokes post.

These are a few of my Favourite Things

Slightly random departure from my usually scientific approach to these posts. Yeah, yeah, I hear you laughin’. Anyway, enjoy this noice poem what I wrote.


Ice in an Esky and foam on moustaches
Wheat beer that gives people celiac rashes
Beer drinking wankers all covered in bling
These are a few of my Favourite Things

Cream coloured Irish and crisp German Lagers
Dunkels and Ambers are some that I’d rather
Brown Ale in packages tied up with string
These are a few of my favourite things

A Boag’s Draught a Tuborg Victoria Bitter
Weihenstephaner Pilsner’s a real dead set ripper
My old mate Robert who gets drunk and sings
These are a few of my favourite things

Draught from a keg or a can from a carton
Blokes on the drink who just can’t stop from fartin’
Singing and laughing and picking up flings
These are a few of my favourite things

Sweet malty pilsners and sour tasting witbiers
Blokes who when drunk act like Noddy and Big Ears
Warm hearty ales that the cold winter brings
These are a few of my favourite things

Marketing beer men who try hard to trick us
Girls in short dresses who show off their knickers
Hooters and boobies and jubbies and things
These are a few of my favourite things

Like a Dogbolter, or a Bee Sting
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favourite things
Then I don’t feel so bad

Stuff I’d like to see

Reading through the local paper the other day I found myself suddenly contracting a sudden and unexpected case of ‘Old Codger Syndrome’ which is a clinically diagnosable affliction in which sufferers will yell at the newspaper or the TV with comments prefaced by the expression, “Now, in MY day...” and concluding with, “Really, what IS the world coming to?”

To be fair, I had had a bad day and the news was particularly annoying – see the post ‘COREY IS A DICKHEAD’ – but it did get me thinking about the things that I really wish I could see in everyday life. As you can probably guess, most were related to beer, brewing, beer sales, beer brewing, beer news, boobies and other beer related matters. But some jumped seemingly out of nowhere – although the beer that I had already enjoyed may have prompted some of them.

First, it would be nice if someone could pass a law that makes it severely illegal to use the words ‘restaurant’ and ‘McDonalds’ in the same sentence. Apart from their insidious abuse of the ‘Heart Tick’ references in their ads, they just seem corporately intent on world domination. I ‘spose if more and more of the world’s population can’t see their toes or their todgers as each year goes by then this might not be as difficult as you may think. Can we please force them to change their name to “The McFat Kid Factory”, or something equally appropriate?

Beer. Yes, some of the things that annoy me are beer related. Apart from the constant media reports about dickheads doing dickhead things after disrespecting the beer, I would like to see less ‘Idea Beers’ created by marketing men who are carrying on blissfully unaware that the company they work for has a brewing division. How about doing some ACTUAL research, instead of the ‘virtual’ focus group research that tries to tell you we need more low carb beers on the market and look at the possibility of creating some real, full flavoured and a little bit ‘out there’ beers like our friends in other beer drinking lands have been enjoying for decades now.

Next, can you people who insist on using mobile phones in public please note the following;

a) The technology employed by all mobile phone manufacturers ensures that the person to whom you are speaking can hear you as if they were in the same room. You do not need to shout as if they are as far away as they really are. O.K?

b) If the person to whom you are speaking says that they will see you in anything under ten minutes – THAT IS THE END OF THE CALL!! – for f&%#s sake wait to speak to them in person. Don’t begin your ‘private’ conversation while we are all still here. We don’t care and, by not seeing your friend in person, you may miss them making a “you are a wanker” gesture.

c) Regarding your ‘private’ conversations, we REALLY DO NOT CARE who’s up who and who’s not paying so shut the f#%k up. If you could climb out of your own arse for a second and hear yourself waffle on you would realise that your life really is as dull as it sounds to us. Thank you.

More on beer. I’d really like to see the increased use of boobies in beer advertising. That’s not too much to ask, is it? I’ve already bought a shed load of your beer anyway so why not reward me, retrospectively, for the gesture? And breweries everywhere are trying to get more women to drink their product and women always seem to be talking about boobies ALL the time! In fact, all I ever hear is comments from Mrs Pilsner like; ‘Why are you always talking about BOOBIES in your blog?’ or, ‘Were you just looking at her BOOBIES?’ and ‘There’s another ad with BOOBIES in it!’ See, always bangin on about them.

As I think of more things that are designed to annoy normal, well adjusted beer drinking folk, I will post them as well. Until then, stay positive, don’t let the dickheads and the wankers get you down -smile at them and picture your next beer – and then go and have a beer.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

Beer Music – Funny Stuff

It’s a funny thing – hence the title for this piece – but when I’m sitting with my thoughts and a beer or two I sometimes recall things from many years gone by and these beer songs are a good example. Beer songs made up using the tune of a song of the day and clever lyrics is an Australian pastime. And there are some which are more developed than the classics like ‘More beer, more beer, more beer, more beer.’ Here are a couple of my own – and some partly ripped off – originals.

I remember that I heard someone use the ‘catch line’ from this first song in a bar I was running about ten years back and I went home and wrote the verses to complete the song. On a deep level it tells the ancient tale of the power that beer holds over us and the respect with which it must be held lest its abuse and disrespect lead us astray and into temptation. On a more shallow level, it tells the modern tale of how chicks who are stinkers sober, get progressively more attractive as the beers flow. Or overflow.

The tune is The Knack’s ‘My Sharona’.
And so I don’t give away the ‘tag’ I have run the three verses together then the chorus, whereas the real song has two verses, the chorus and then another verse. Pedantic, I know, but I don’t want complaints that I have butchered a perfectly good song.

Verse 1

‘Oooh, you’re not a pretty one, an ugly one
I wouldn’t even give you the – TIME SHARONA!
You don’t make my motor run, you’re a bum
I think I’d rather bath in some – LIME SHARONA!’*

Verse 2

‘Keep a little distance please, away from me
The ‘Ugly Cops’ should give you a – FINE SHARONA!
But is it just my destiny, to be a sleaze
And will I have to give you a – TRY SHARONA!’

Verse 3

‘I have only had four beers, just four beers
I’m gonna have to get me a – FIVE SHARONA!
Then another two, just for you
You are really startin’ to look – FINE SHARONA!’

Maybe one more drink, then I think That not so much will you stink
Can a beer, bring me cheer And the courage to come near,
She -started -looking -good after – NINE CORONAS!!

And we’ve all been there, haven’t we? Except for me, I don’t drink Corona. The next ditty is to the tune of The Proclaimers big debut hit, 500 Miles. I first saw the brilliant Scottish comedian Craig Ferguson (aka Bing Hitler) perform the chorus bit on telly somewhere. I tried to find the full version but You Tube had pulled it for some reason. I think, from memory, that the song was just a ‘snippet’, in that it was only a line or two, so I have taken the liberty of writing the verses.

It is translated from the traditional Scottish.

500 Miles

‘When I go out, well I know I’m gonna be,
I’m gonna be the man who’s gooin’oot wi’ you
With some lagers, well we’re gonna need a few
If I’m gonna be the one who goos wi’ you’

When I’m drinkin’, well I know I’m gonna be,
I’m gonna be the man who’s singin’ loudly, too
And when I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna spew
And I just hope that it don’t get on my shoe

(Chorus)
And I have had five hundred beers and I will have five hundred more
And then I’ll be the man who comes to your party and does sick on your floor
Bleugh – da – do –do!
Bleugh – da – do –do!
Bleugh – da – dun- da- la- dun
Dud a lun dud a lun dah dah!

(Drink more beer and repeat chorus)

Hope you found these tunes amusing and get a chance to try them out loudly one night during the following months. If I remember any more or get the inkling to write some more, you’ll know where to find them.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

*I cleaned this line up in case the kids are reading. It used to say; ‘I’d rather stick my d@#k in some lime, Sharona.

Beer Games – Part Three

Beer Pong

So successful has our series on beer games been (I even had one comment on the last instalment, thanks Zak!) that I have decided to continue it. Partly because there are plenty of beer drinking based games around but mostly because the games, and researching and writing about them is just so much fun. Today we look at the American College students’ favourite drinking game, Beer Pong.

I have only a vague recollection of this game from my younger days and I only ever heard about it and never actually saw it played. It is full on in the States and they hold tournaments and everything. I have been researching these games topics extensively of late and I have come to realise that the US is not just another country, it’s a whole other universe. Nowhere have I come across so many differences between Americans and normal people and it has prompted me to put together a post regarding the various amusing dissimilarities. Stay tuned. But don’t let on to the Yanks, OK? The ones who I know and who love their beer are good people.

Back to beer pong. The game itself is simple. A number of plastic cups are set up in a triangular formation in front of each team of two players. Six, twelve or fifteen cups seems to be the standard and each team may have two, three or four members. The cups are filled with beer and teams take turns to throw ping pong balls at the opposition cups. When a ball is landed, the opposition has to drink that cup’s contents. The game is won by the team who can make the opposition drink all their cups. The ‘punishment ‘ for losing is that you must then drink any of the winning teams remaining beers.

The rules vary from high school to high school, Uni to Uni and from State to State and even from pub to pub with paddles being used by some to hit the ball and some use quarters instead of balls. Why you’d want to play with coins that have quite conceivably found a recent home in a beggars’ bumcrack, I don’t know. I guess if you are using Bud for the beer, it may give the stuff some semblance of flavour.

I have found some interesting features on Wikipedia which I shall be very slack about and copy here. Check out just how fair dinkum these blokes get about this game;
There are four major ways to shoot in beer pong:

Arc - The most common throwing technique is to grasp the ping pong ball with the tips of the thumb and forefinger of the player's dominant hand, and hold the arm at an angle with the ball upwards, then throw by using gentle elbow motion, holding the upper arm parallel with the table. The arc motion allows one to put enough force on the ball to get it to the other side of the table, while conserving velocity and slowing it down so that it is not as likely to bounce off the rim of the cup but gently roll into the cup.

Fastball - Some players throw "fastball" style, also known as "throwing darts", which uses more of a hard chopping motion to send the ball in a more direct line to the intended target cup. This can be done with the hand in the usual "pistol grip" orientation or in an overhand "slam-dunk" orientation. The fastball is especially favored by taller players, as it is easier to throw from a higher position. Due to the straighter path the ball will follow, the player may feel more confident in hitting using the fastball. Fastballs are also much more likely to knock down a cup, which may have positive or negative consequences depending on house rules. As noted above, the higher horizontal velocity of the ball will also cause less-precise shots to bounce off the rim rather than gently bounce into a cup.

Bounce - A bounce is performed by bouncing the ball toward the cups. Since the other team has the opportunity to swat away a bounced ball, a bounce is usually worth two cups. The "muck" bounce is a low trajectory shot achieved by bouncing the ball in a sideways motion as opposed to overhand. This shot is particularly effective because in addition to being difficult to block, it leaves the opportunity for the other team to knock cups over. In some house rules, the bounce shot is not allowed.

Underhand - This technique is best when there are still many cups left on the table, because it is hard to control the left to right movement, but is very good for achieving the desired distance. Use of this technique is often against house rules. Australian readers see TREVOR CHAPPELL

I even found the standard regulations for table dimensions including the height from the ground to the top of the table, as listed in The World Series of Beer Pong! Can you believe how fair dinkum these guys get? It’s a drinking game, not an Olympic sport!!

It appears that alongside the standard set up for play and turn taking is a standard guideline for the amount of beer in total to be used per round – two cans (total) of light or low strength beer! that’s light as in low carb and low strength as in light alcohol beer. Two cans!? No wonder it hasn’t taken off here. Can you imagine the Australian Variation Rules for an International series?

We would have VB for the Vics and Toohey’s for the Cockroaches, XXXX for the Cane Toads and West End for the Crow Eaters. Cascade for the Taswegians and ‘Big Chook Piss’ (Emu Lager) for the Drug Dealers, sorry, Sandgropers. The regional finals would be played as Day/Nighters with the Final at the ‘G on the day after the Grand Final. The TAB would want in on this, of course, and we’d have professional handicappers setting the markets. Good teams would have to drink strong lagers like Platinum Extra Dry, average teams could drink light and the token Gay Pride Team could drink wine spritzers, Bacardi Breezers or Coronas.

The Yanks have a whole section in the rule book about defence; sorry, ‘dee-fence’ which is divided into sections on ‘psychological’, ‘blowing and fingering’ (!??!) and ‘ball blocking’. All of these, I assume, are legal in all but three States. Psychological defence, or ‘shit-talking’ consists of abuse, distracting visual cues and arm waving and grotesque facial expressions. As for the second section, I’ll let the Americans explain it for themselves;

Blowing/fingering - If the ball is spinning inside of a cup, players may either blow into the cup or put a finger in the cup it out in an attempt to make the ball fly out before it touches the liquid. Once the ball stops spinning, it is considered "dead", and no further defensive actions will count. Frequently, only females are allowed to blow, while men are allowed to finger. Note that some rules disallow such actions and count them as goaltending.

Now that’s funnier than anything I could have written.

Ball blocking is NOT, as you may think, what English soccer players do when preparing to defend a free kick but beer pong players swatting the ball away before it gets to their cups. Of beer. Some rules allow for all out blocking while others say it can only be done on a second bounce shot. I think they probably have a ‘one hand off the shed’ rule, too. If a player knocks beers over when blocking, he has to drink those cups. What!? They’re knocked over! Unless you’re playing with beer-jello, the cup should probably be empty. If we were to play this game then anyone knocking beer over would be labelled a ‘dickhead and sent from the table immediately.

Speaking of dickheads, Anheuser-Busch brought out a ‘Bud Pong’ game kit in 2005. They claimed that the game was not meant to encourage under age or binge drinking because the game was intended for use in bars and not campuses and because its rules called for the use of WATER instead of beer. But it is designed to be played in bars. With water. What the ...!?

Now, like ‘jumbo shrimp’ or ‘military intelligence’ this seems a little like a double negative in its very lunacy. Why does a brewery promote and distribute a game that discourages beer drinking? Why does a brewery think that a drinking game will NOT be used for drinking beer? Why does the Marketing Department of said brewery proclaim surprise when told that teenagers were using this drinking game to drink beer? Because, as I said, they are dickheads. It’s another sad case of a brewery being about the money instead of being about the beer.

Having said all that, let’s get behind any attempt to bring an international series to these shores, or support a touring team to go to the States and take on their best. After all, this drinking game business is something that we have become pretty competent at in our past. We’ll whip their skanky-yanky arses.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner