Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Tuesday, 25 August 2015
It's Tuesday - let's party
Hello. Let's see who I can offend, upset, or just plain piss-off today.
Having semi-ruined the life of pub smokers and got absolutely nowhere with young binge-drinkers, the British health police are now going for a softer target - the over 60s who sit at home minding their own business whilst drinking a half bottle or so of wine with their food.
A woman on the radio said that she was shocked to learn that some old folk were drinking the equivalent of one bottle of whisky per week. I tried to imagine how this translated into 'units', but it didn't take too much calculation to equate a 12% bottle of wine to a 40% bottle of whisky, by volume. I try not to keep spirits in the house, because after a quarter of a bottle it seems like a bloody good idea to have another quarter, and before you know it you are drinking three and a half bottles a week. THAT'S what I call over-doing it.
This latest attack on old people also coincides with a nation-wide war on sugar too, but the sugar business is - more sensibly - aimed at obese children. Statistics about the sugar content of fizzy drinks can be shocking but, having said that, all of us older people are lumped in with the youngsters and are expected to die aged 100+ with perfect teeth, shiny pink lungs and normal-sized livers. They cut us open to check after we are dead, then say, "Look at that - no wonder he died aged 84."
Can you imagine the drain on the economy if we all took their advice and lived to be 100?
Thursdays are our recycling days and I am often tempted to leave a note on the bottle bags saying that we are very sociable people and have a party here at least once a week, but I don't think they would believe me. They don't care anyway and they've seen it all before, but I leave it until they have moved up the road before going outside and risking the censorial side-long glances of the rubbish collectors.
I have a friend who had to go to the doctor for some minor ailment a few years ago, when he was about 60.
He was answering the usual questions to the receptionist who was filling out the forms that are required before actually seeing a doctor, and she asked him how much he drank a week.
"I go to the pub every evening and have two or three pints of beer, but I don't drink at home", was his honest reply.
"Right", she said, "I'm putting you down as an alcoholic".