“The judge pointed out that a huge proportion of crime is drink-related, and then – to the BBC – made the crucial observation. He remarked that it was all very well talking about a new café-style culture, where we all sit around like Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, drinking slowly and moderately as we formulate new philosophical aperçus; but Britain couldn’t have a Continental approach to licensing laws until we had a Continental approach to drink.”
lol…good point. The rest of the post is here. The youth of Britain have more of a drink problem that either the Russians or Ukranians? Yikes.
“It was as I was skimming these statistics that I suddenly had an insight. I realised to my horror that I was reading the figures with pride, and there, my friends, is the trouble. Deep down, because of some peculiarity in our psyche, we think it rather admirable to get bladdered, leathered, rat-arsed and otherwise hogwhimpering drunk.”
From what I can observe in our fairly sleepy little town, that is true. The only reason that I can see for extending the hours within which you can drink is so that we are no longer woken up at 11:00 by loud, binge-drunk chavs staggering home past our house. You could set your alarm by it, if you worked the late shift and needed to get up to face the wee hours. It’s neither safe, nor pleasant, to be out and about late at night in the town centre. What would it be like in Manchester, in Nottingham, or even in London? I hate to think.
3 thoughts on “Demon Alcohol”
From what I’ve observed of English culture, binge drinking is a massive prevalent problem, spurned on by peer pressure unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. That being said, at least the hoarde of drunken chavs stumbling past your house tends to WALK rather than get behind the wheel, as many do here in the US.
One of hte benefits of living in a smallish market town – you don’t need to drive to get to the pub!
Well, that’s true, I suppose. I just don’t get the “get as drunk as you can, as fast as you can” thing – where’s the fun in that? Like I’d ever want to get dressed up, go out with my friends, and end up crying and vomiting on the street. No thanks…