Happy Beer-day To Us

The first Tuesday in November is a special one to Australians. It is Melbourne Cup Day and it is the day on which they run the ‘race that stops a nation’. In describing it, the media has bandied about words like ‘iconic’ and ‘hallowed’ so often that they have had their true meanings diluted. Bruce would probably sum it up best as ‘Spairrrrr-shul’. It really should come already red-circled from the printer when you buy your calendar.

It also marks the genesis of one of this country’s least known and least praiseworthy business ventures. It was last years Melbourne Cup that saw two blokes win enough cash to buy the gear that brewed the beer that made the name - of the Beer Blokes.



And so, on Cup Day a year later, it is fitting that I look back and take stock of the preceding twelve months activities, frivolities, trivialities and beer-ities. Oh, and the tit-it-ties.


I would like to begin by thanking all the people who have happened across the site since we first began with a post (comprising a single line, I think) titled ‘Humble Beginnings’. While some of my opinions and musings may at times appear a little boastful or educated, I like to think that the general flavour and feel of the site has remained essentially humble. As Beer Blokes we have felt the responsibility that the power of the medium holds, even if we are only being powerful to two or three readers. So thank you all, for finding us, for visiting, for staying on and, most importantly, for not slagging us off. There are plenty of sport based blogs and forums for that sort of back-and-forth baiting and puerile point scoring!*

I would love to see any readers who have not yet made a reply to a post til’ now drop us a quick hello, just so that I can get an idea of the numbers we are attracting. No, it won’t stop me from writing this carp if I was to find out that the readership is in single figures, and I certainly don’t have the time nor the inclination to use reader information to sell internet schemes and todger enlargement kits. So don’t be afraid, just be a friend. Better grab a beer and a break. Back soon.

Back. I hope we have been informative as well as entertaining. I reckon we have managed to kick start a few debates and raise the level of awareness about beer brands, beer culture and the mystical beer-sport nexus as well as providing some, at times, humorous insights into the world of home brewing. It is now also a year since we began our home brew adventure and to date, touch wood, we are yet to produce a flat batch, brew any cats’ piss or blow up the kitchen or the shed. So it proves that brewing your own beer is not something that is beyond the average bloke and that you don’t need to be a chemical engineer to produce a very drinkable and enjoyable drop.

The Beer Blokes beer production is about to move into high volume production again. I had hoped to have a greater stock of ‘green’ beer put away to mature by now but some de-cluttering of the brewing premises and a heavier than anticipated general workload has led to a slow down in building up the supplies. Fortunately I have had the time to consume plenty of existing supplies and this has had a two-fold reward. I have got to drink some very tasty beer and smile quietly knowing that I had brewed it, and it has made some extra space in the wardrobe for the next batches. And for some summer clothes. I may be able to have both.

But probably not. Just beer.

I hope, also, that the Blokes have been instrumental in keeping our readership up to date with brew news from various sources, wether it be new product news or brewing and drinking trends or just the general talk from around the bars and pubs and restaurants. And of course, I believe we have unmasked that dreaded and insidious beast who lurks, anonymous and unnamed, beneath the foamy surface of the Beer World creating fear and confusion with his dastardly deceptions – the beer marketing executive and his ever obedient minions- or, The Beer Boogieman.

The Beer Blokes like to think that we have taken on the role of a kind of ‘Canned Crusader’, seeking out this evil doer who would sell his wares at any cost ignorant of any loyalty to the truth. The Beer Bloke has sought to alert the drinkers of the world to the tricks and taunts of this black-caped blackguard and, rest assured, dear readers, we shall endeavour to continue the fight for Truth, Justice and the Ale & Lager way.

So thanks again for supporting us. We hope that you have, and will continue, to enjoy the Beer Blokes unique and lager-charged take on the world of beer, brewing and bullshitting. Cheers.
Dr. Lager & Prof. Pilsner.


*For an entertaining and very funny series of exchanges about the AFL/NRL support debate, pop over to Sportal.com and find this witty and erudite exchange. Dr. Lager has used the name Jabbers64 so that no-one will know it is him. Try not to tell anyone, OK? The internet isn’t global yet, is it?
http://forum.sportal.com.au/viewthread.aspx?t=11984&page=12

Movembeer

The month of November is Men’s Health Month and some of the Beer Blokes out there may have participated in a fundraising and awareness campaign known as Mo-vember where normally un-moustachioed males grow some mo’ during the month.

A regular reader of this drivel (THIS BLOG, NOT MEN'S HEALTH WEEK!) participated last year and had a very humorous website to track the mo-progress of himself and his work colleagues; if you are in again this year, the Blokes would like to know. I am happy to support such initiatives because they are a good fun way to raise awareness and money for a good cause. After all, the longer you live, the more beers you get to try!

Not to be outdone and in no way detracting from the real thing, I am starting a supplementary movement on these pages to encourage men to think about their manly health and to do something worthwhile at the same time. If you can’t grow a mo’ then maybe this is for you.

MO-vemBEER.

And it’s simple. During the month of November, try to drink as many beers beginning with MO or that have MO somewhere prominent in their title – or style. For example, I am kicking off my campaign for men’s health with a MOosehead from Canada and, while I’m there, I will go for a Unibroue specialty beer called La Fin Du MOnde – which translates as ‘the end of the world – and I can assure you, if you cop the old Jack the Dancer in the old prostate – that’s an ominous brew.

In all seriousness, I reckon this is as good an opportunity as any to promote the cause for prostate cancer and other ‘we don’t like to talk about these things especially Doctors puttin’ their fingers up there’ kind of medical issues. But the reality is that we need to do all we can to stay healthy and beer loving. We owe it to the beer.

Send us your MO selections; they can be a beer or a beer style – but don’t get too carried away by trying to drink a full selection, especially if you choose Monastery Beers, or even Mountain Goat or MOnteith's!

I don’t want to go the opposite way and be the cause of the deaths by beer drowning of the entire Beer Blokes squad!

Cheers, and Good Health.

Prof. Pilsner

The Sydney Experience

A Sporting Journey as seen through a glass of Beer.

As many readers will be aware, Professor Pilsner is something of a sports fan as well as a drinker and admirer of beer so I thought it as good an opportunity as ever to combine the two in the interests of further educating the non - beer world. What follows is a diary of sorts which tells the tale of travel, beer and triumph.

On Saturday September 23 the Melbourne Storm Rugby League club defeated the Parramatta Eels 26 - 10 a momentous occasion for all League followers in Victoria and for one in particular. The win under the roof at the Docklands Stadium ( Telstra doesn’t pay me a cent to advertise their name ) meant that, for the second consecutive year the Storm would play out a contest for the sports’ ultimate prize. For its’ supporters, this meant an opportunity to follow the boys north and share in the elation or the misery and to perhaps enjoy a few of the local liquid offerings. After all, I can have a few extras if I don’t have to fly the plane home, can’t I?

Having offloaded the car at some time before daylight on the Sunday of the game - for the non-leaguers, the NRL holds its Grand Final at night now - my thoughts turned immediately to the prospects of the weekend ahead. Beer. Mmm, beer. What brews would be offered? Where could I go and in what sort of atmosphere would I be drinking them in? Would there be a chance to get some Sydney beer culture experience squeezed in before heading out to the ground?

And then to the game. The what and the where of beer would be pretty straightforward. A couple of hundred little bars and tents dotted at intervals along the inner concourse of the Olympic Stadium (they still haven’t offered to pay me anything to call it Telstra) selling Toohey’s New and a Mid Strength or light, maybe a Heineken. The question would be how long the wait and would the spotty 18 year old girl from Spotless or whoever does the catering there know how to pour a beer into a plastic cup without making either ice cream or a scale model of the Nevada flatlands? And would she know the difference between a cold beer and a not?

But before I got to the game I had to get to Sydney. There would be beer there. Before I got to Sydney I had to get on the plane. They would have beer there, too. Before I got on the plane I had to get to the airport. Hmmm? Pace yourself, Professor, it’s a long day and night ahead, win or lose.

Virgin Blue sells Vbs for I think $5 on their flights and that’s not bad considering what you’d pay for one in nightclub or bar. But, as I have lamented before, why bother drinking VB when you go out if there is anything else on offer? A good example of what it is, but it’s not much really and it’s so readily available that there is little reason to drink it outside the home. If you have to. Crownies were a dollar more and in the words of Forrest Gump; “That’s orl ah gut ta say ‘bout that.”

Having a train at the airport in Sydney is great because it takes a lot of the guesswork out of leaving the airport. Which is even greater if you did have some Vbs for $5 on the plane. Mr Brumby, take note. Get a train built to our airport. And don’t think of calling it Brumby Station or Expensive Street Station. Or putting tolls on it. The guys I was meeting up with had come up a day earlier and I planned to meet them out at the hotel in Parramatta so it was change trains and off again. No beer to be found AT ALL either on the train or at the station. Some work to do here, Morris Ieamma. Iannemma. Enema Iamananna. Mr. Premier. Lunch at Westfield - that’s a big day out for the good folk of Parramatta. For those in Melbourne, think Frankston with not quite as much charm. Standard beer offerings only in the Woolies liquor department.

Back to the hotel. There is only so much excitement you can handle at Westfield before feeling a little giddy. The boys had some leftover Toohey’s Extra Dry and a handful of Crownies so they were put away while we watched the pre game shows and the junior grade Grand Final. Just like the players, the supporters need to prepare for the Big Show. Back on the train at three. No beer available still. Get to the ground. Lots of beer available. And here is where the AFL could take a tip from our northern neighbours.

Outside the ground there are two huge drinking areas set up for fans to meet and wind up and drink a beer. Both are fenced in and secured and have bands playing for free and reasonably priced beer - welcome to the collection Hahn Premium - and it means that you don’t have to commit to sitting inside in the sun watching the grass grow.

The AFL only provides corporately expensive and exclusive entertainment for its showpiece so that if you managed to get a ticket you have to sit through marching banner waving kids and Australian Idols squealing Waltzing Matilda. Or a cardboard Batmobile or the Goal Umpire Chorale or giant novelty inflatable footballers. This year we were treated to an upside down hanging lady who grabbed the cup and then couldn’t find her way down to the podium she was supposed to place it on. Mike Fitzpatrick relived his glory days by taking an easy receive and potting a cherry. Pass the beer, please.

The NRL fought back well by inflicting Nollsie on us but took the lead with the arrival of the Blackhawk helicopter which burned a huge chunk of the middle of the ground and the skydivers who bettered last years effort by landing three and only losing two. That’s one better than last year. But this year none landed on the stadium roof so that’s a good thing.

And on to the game. To their credit, the beers were cold, the staff efficient and friendly and the atmosphere was electric. The beers went down well and the game was a cracker. Sorry, Zak. I would just like to take this opportunity to say Hi to all the Manly supporters who bagged, slagged and in one case ‘flagged’ us before the game. I wasn’t able to catch up with all of you after the game. I was busy. Drinking. And hugging the trophy. And drinking. And, besides, most of you had left long before the game finished. That’s one area we have you beat in the AFL. The supporters stay till the end. Except Melbourne Demons fans. They like to get a headstart on the crowd to get the Range Rover out of the car park quickly. Even long suffering Richmond fans stay on, although, in truth, that’s just so they can rip up their memberships in disgust and berate the players as they walk up the race. That’s the tunnel for you NRL folk.

The after party was a little more unrestrained than at the same time last year and the beer was certainly going down more smoothly. And there was plenty of it. Until it ran out. Drinks with the boys and Molly Meldrum and Micky Roberts and Tiffany Cherry and who knows who else. Everyone was there. Back into the city to finish off the night with a 3am kebab and two Toohey’s New before stacking some zeds and heading back to the airport at 6.30 so we could fly back in time to meet the boys at home.

But the next three days of partying and public civic receptions and partying are a whole other story.

Did I mention that there was beer there?

Cheers,

Prof. Pilsner