It's Official
06/10/11 -- Beer is cheaper up north, according to this report today from the BBC: It's grim down south. Which obviously explains why I chose to live in the north as the more you drink, the more you save.
By "beer" they mean bitter, stuff with funny names and bits floating in it that looks like it's been strained through a tramp's undercrackers, not the proper lager that Northern gentlemen of discernment such as myself imbibe.
I was in a local hostelry the other day as it happens and a pint of lager "up here" was just GBP1.87. It was rubbish lager mind, but that's not the point, the point is it was GBP1.87 a pint. If this is what they mean by a north south divide then I'm all for it.
You southern softies can sup your half of Tramp Nadger, wearing your stupid tweed jackets with the leather elbow pads and your frayed-at-the-knees corduroy trousers huddled round the fire "because it's only 67F outside old bean". We're tough up here in Lagerland, you only have to look at footage of the crowd from any Newcastle home game to see that. These lads are stripped to the waist when it's minus ten in the middle of December with seventeen pints of lager down their necks before the game. And that's for the early kick-offs. Women up here love a mans man like that, not a "I've had two halves so I better go, I'm driving to Esher next week" pansy like you. Hanging, the birch and conscription - in that order - that's what you lot need.
By "beer" they mean bitter, stuff with funny names and bits floating in it that looks like it's been strained through a tramp's undercrackers, not the proper lager that Northern gentlemen of discernment such as myself imbibe.
I was in a local hostelry the other day as it happens and a pint of lager "up here" was just GBP1.87. It was rubbish lager mind, but that's not the point, the point is it was GBP1.87 a pint. If this is what they mean by a north south divide then I'm all for it.
You southern softies can sup your half of Tramp Nadger, wearing your stupid tweed jackets with the leather elbow pads and your frayed-at-the-knees corduroy trousers huddled round the fire "because it's only 67F outside old bean". We're tough up here in Lagerland, you only have to look at footage of the crowd from any Newcastle home game to see that. These lads are stripped to the waist when it's minus ten in the middle of December with seventeen pints of lager down their necks before the game. And that's for the early kick-offs. Women up here love a mans man like that, not a "I've had two halves so I better go, I'm driving to Esher next week" pansy like you. Hanging, the birch and conscription - in that order - that's what you lot need.