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

I have a confession to make.

My Name is Professor Pilsner ...

And I am a binge drinker.

Well, I’m NOT REALLY. I like to enjoy the experience of a nice cold lager and I certainly like to savour the taste and flavour and aroma of a well crafted ale. I spend a little extra, most times, to be able to drink something a bit special and yet at other times I like to spend bugger-all and brew up 23 litres of homebrew for about 20 cents a stubby.

I usually have a beer or two as I prepare the family meal and then, depending on the meal, I will select a matching ale or lager to have at the dinner table. Most nights, when the little Pilsners are tucked into bed I will sit down with Mrs Pilsner and sip a nice rich amber ale or maybe a porter or a sparkling ale before popping off to stack some zeds.

Which makes me a binge drinker.

So says the government. You see, at no small expense to the taxpayer, our eminent federal leaders have seen fit to throw massive amounts of OUR cash towards combating the scourge of modern society; binge drinking. And, in conjunction with this, some pin heads in lab coats clutching clipboards and nodding to each other in an authoritative manner have decided that we MUST decide upon a number of mid-sized beers that will constitute a “binge”. Having added together the total number of girlfriends that these poindexters have had in their entire lives, they were able to settle on the number four and this, they have declared, is the magic number. Drink four beers and you are engaging in a binge.

Now, call me old fashioned but I always thought that binge drinking was a frenetic and continuous kind of irresponsibility perpetrated by knob-ends and dickheads who don’t respect the beer or who don’t have enough self control to slow down and enjoy a night out or who are unable to realise that they are drinking too much or too quickly. Apparently this definition was far too difficult to communicate effectively, let alone fit onto a flash card, so they just settled on “four beers”. Knobs.

See you all at the next big “binge”; dinner at my place tonight.

Cheers,Prof. Pilsner

Speed Cleaning and Blokes

I reported in a previous article that I had done a very noble and blokey thing and cleaned out a sizeable proportion of my personal wardrobe. You may recall that this was not due to any over abundance of clothing or due to the onset of spring. The purpose of this exercise was to allow the expedient expansion of the Beer Bloke Brewing Empire because it gave me the beer storage space needed to get on with the next few batches.

But cleaning is not necessarily something that comes as second nature to a bloke. We are hunter gatherers, we are warriors and protectors and we are fixers and tinkerers. That is to say that we can provide food as long as someone will clean the barbie afterwards, we are more than capable of matching an opponent on the sporting field or in the trivia ring and we can pull a seemingly efficient appliance apart and break it down into the sum of its parts then put it all back together, minus three screws and a combobulating valve and let it sit in the shed while we go to the shop and buy a new one before the missus discovers that we stuffed the old one.

Cleaning is something we need to learn. But it is not necessarily something we can be taught. It is definitely not something we want to be told or forced to do. What we really don’t need are newly released books about cleaning that are as popular with womenfolk as $100 haircuts, manicures and celebrity marriages.

You may have become aware of this series of Household Bibles that have exploded onto –and right off –bookshelves around the country. They are the product of a national radio talkback show which was so popular that the theories and helpful hints on cleaning your house became a best seller. Or three. They are ‘Spotless’, ‘Speed Cleaning’ and ‘How to be Comfy’. If you haven’t heard of them, find out quickly because I guarantee that your other half has already discovered them and is studying them up and is probably already putting together a ‘cleaning kit’ as we speak. This kit is designed specifically to crush the male spirit.

This is not to say that blokes don’t know anything about cleaning at all. As a homebrewer I have had to develop good cleaning and sanitation practices. As a beer drinker I have had to develop good beer glass cleaning habits. You may not know it, but there is a CLEAN glass and then there is a BEER CLEAN glass. A ‘beer clean’ glass will have not a single bubble sticking to the inside surface of the glass. Stay tuned for a full one day lecture series on how to clean your glasses, how to care for them and how to pour beer into them. I assume because you are reading this that you already know how to drink the beer.

Back to the books. I have decided that in order to survive whatever challenges Mrs Pilsner is encouraged to throw down as a result of reading these books, I need to know a little about the philosophies and systems they espouse. I don’t need to know how to clean the entire house in only fifteen minutes a day; I need to know what the book is telling her I can do in fifteen minutes a day. Knowledge is power and power over this book series might just save me and my beer and my brewing equipment.

Based on this philosophy I am reading these books and making a decent attempt at pretending to agree with or at least understand their concepts. Some of the basic principles are just pretty much common sense while some of the hints and tips are downright bizarre. Any book which recommends spoilt milk as a natural cleaning product has obviously never smelt spoilt milk before. And the nonchalant way in which it describes the procedure for producing spoilt milk is even more amusing; ‘Leave milk in the sun until it has developed solids – do not attempt to use until the milk is rancid and solids have formed.’ Just like that! And this is supposed to be a safe alternative to chemicals!

I don’t suppose that there are any stains that can be treated with beer. I know of plenty of stains that can be created by beer.

Anyway, the lesson I am quickly learning is that my brewing space needs to uphold the appearance of being clean and tidy and ordered if it is to remain intact – and in the house. I also realise that I need to contribute to some elements of domesticity so that the hobby can flourish. Then, one day, it will outgrow the house completely and I’ll have a small commercial brewery of my own.

Until then...

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner