Quote from: John Kimble on February 12, 2019, 08:48:04 PM
Quote from: Born of Fire on December 25, 2018, 04:34:07 PM
. But there is such a wide variety of excellent stuff out there, and most pubs seem to have an least a small selection, that I just can't fathom how people stick to the likes of Carlsberg, Miller, Heineken or, worst of all, Budweiser on a night out.
yeah,id drink any of them if they were put in front of me,but they are all piss water once youve experimented with other beers.On a heavy night out i will start off with something like Rebel red or some craft beer,but no way could i stay on it for the night without getting utterly comatosed,might end the night with a bottle or two of miller.

This time of year on a night out it's Guinness and whiskey all night long.
In the warmer months I'll try whatever isn't Heineken, Carlsberg or pissy American shite.
At home I'll drink whatever's a decent price in the offie or supermarket.

Guinness Golden Ale here tonight. Super tasty beer.

Was at the Zealot Cult gig last night in Limerick.  Nothing interesting me on the taps in the bar, ended up chancing a Rockshore to try it out.  Not the worst, stuck on it for the night.  Easy to drink, fiver a pint, but very very fuckin tame, has to be one of the lightest and most tasteless pints I've ever had.  It's not a bad taste when you get it mind, it just doesn't really have one.  Feeling good today after a skinful so i'm assuming it's made decent enough.

Budweiser - gets my vote for one of the worst beers going. Gassy horrible shite.
Peroni is the good stuff, crisp and tasty.
Bottles of Lomza are great craic too.

I'll always be a Bucky fan. I don't really have a preference for the green or brown bottle, but it has to be said that the green bottles are more likely to smash if you drop them  :laugh:

I do love creamy pints of Guinness, but they give me awfully sticky shits. I've been drinking Hophouse recently and it's well tasty and doesn't seem to come with headaches the day after.

If I'm going to a festival I'll always bring cans of Carlsberg, which is a bit odd cos I'll never order a pint of Carlsberg at a bar.
Oh and a bottle of Captain Morgan/fanta combo is a nice refresher in the early hours.

Drinking Dot Brew's Back to Black at the moment. Class black IPA, probably the best one I've had since Carrig Brewing's Coal Face (which is a good bit cheaper at 4 for 10 in tesco).

Tried the Boyne Brewhouse Imperial Stout at 10.8% earlier on watching the rugby. Packs a punch but I've had better. Was like pouring molasses into a glass, in a good way.

Drinking some Leffe's at the moment, 4 bottles for 6 quid, can't beat it.

Quote from: Slaughterday on March 10, 2019, 07:26:30 PM
Tried the Boyne Brewhouse Imperial Stout at 10.8% earlier on watching the rugby. Packs a punch but I've had better. Was like pouring molasses into a glass, in a good way.

I haven't tried that one, but their oatmeal stout is very good and probably not as heavy going. Actually, most of their stuff is pretty decent.

Wheres the 4 leffe for 6 quid deal? Thats a class price.

Quote from: Slaughterday on March 11, 2019, 07:58:18 PM
Wheres the 4 leffe for 6 quid deal? Thats a class price.
I'd imagine they are the 330ml bottles.
Lidl has the Leffe corked 750ml bottles for €2.99 (£2.49). Great value.

Yeah, it was 4 of the 330 ml for 6 quid in Dunnes.

I think Supervalu are doing them for 6.50 too.

Brace your arse holes! Dismember beer on the way folks!

#42 May 17, 2019, 05:24:24 PM Last Edit: May 17, 2019, 05:33:48 PM by StoutAndAle
Of late, I've not been out to the pub much. Beers at home with a few records does me fine.

Went out last Saturday afternoon for a few half pints - literally a few half pints - you can taste more of the fancy stuff that way. My wife was in tow and we were having mighty craic inside one of our regular haunts in the city when our next door neighbours walk in. They've lived next to us for about two years but I've had very little interaction with them beyond "How's the form?", sticking a Christmas card in the letterbox and the odd quick chat about music or something else.

Turns out it's your man's birthday. I'm about 3 beers in and now have a lip on me and the half pint/taste more of the fancy stuff has given way to a "fuck it all, live for tonight, we built this city on rock n' roll, Aces High, burn the city to the ground" type of mindset. "Away to fuck!" says I "I'll get a round in there for your birthday" and off I go to the bar. On my return his missus and mine are discussing holidays, cushions, paint colours and so on & so forth. So I start chatting to your man who it turns out is actually dead on, if a bit socially awkward but he soon warms up.

"Another round?" he asks.

"Sure why not" says I. While he's at the bar my missus says to me that she thinks she'll head away home cos we're having people out the next day for a bit of grub and she fancies doing prep/cleaning but you look like you're having the craic so work away just don't go too nuts. Yer man's missus says she's not really feeling it either and offers to share a taxi home with my better half.

"Mind himself for me" his missus says as they leave.

"Not a bother" says I as I waved them off and head back inside to where my new best mate has guzzled half of his pint of 7% stout.

"Fuckin' right!" I think to myself.

Cue the A-Team theme song.

We go from pub to pub, having a chat, swigging pints and being all round sophisticated socialites. At closing time both of us remark on how remarkably sober we both are - enough so that it should be remarked upon as it definitely remarkable. "Sure we'll get food and go back to my house, I have beer and you don't have far to fall when we're done." says himself.

"Top man" says I as my arm shoots out to hail a cab and take us on the road. Jumped into a cab and gave your man the address.

"Fuck off outta that" says our friendly cab driver "that's only around the corner". I had forgotten or ignored the fact that I had fashioned our crawl into a walk home. Back out of the cab, chip shop, ordered way too much food - we've all been there, don't fuckin' lie to me.

Back to his house which, as mentioned earlier, is next to my house. I have a moment of clarity and decide that discretion is the better part of valor here and say "You know what? It's been a long day, I don't want to be getting in your way".

"Not at all" he says to me. "We'll have a night cap and call it quits". To be be fair, he was talking sense - we all know that finishing your night on an odd number of drinks rather than an even number is what causes hangovers.

Into the kitchen we go, he grabs some plates and heads over to the table. "Eh... the jacks?" says I bursting for a piss. He points in the direction of a door and off I head. Wizz completed I go to flush but it won't. Fuck. A bead of cold sweat trickles down my left temple.

I start to wonder if it's one of those if it's mellow let it yellow households. You know the type I mean? All Birkenstock sandals, quinoa, kale juice and fetid piss lingering the jacks but who still drive a Range Rover to a shop that's 3 minutes walk away.

"What am I going to do?" I panic think as, unbeknownst to me, my hands have lifted the top off the cistern and I'm peering over the porcelain reveal. Aha! It's the same type of toilet as we have, instead of a handle, there's a two button type thing. It came loose in ours before and given my engineering background I was able to fix it. That was in the day-time though, not langersed drunk in someone else's house at 0100hrs. But, credit it where it's due, I fixed it. FLUSSSSSH. Wash the hands, back out into the kitchen.

No sign of your man, food is still there and two beers with glasses unopened on the table. How fucking long was I gone? Christ! I stand stock still, I can't hear anything. What am I going to do? I spy my chips and decide I leaving. So I grab my bag and quietly but quickly get to the front door. Only to find it locked from the inside and there's no sign of a key. "Oh sweet suffering Christ" I silently plead as I turn the handle once more. Why the fuck has he done this? What has he done with the keys? I don't know what to do now so I head back into the kitchen to see if he's re-appeared. No go. Fuck. I think of texting my missus to get her to ring the doorbell but I dismiss that out of hand. I sit dejectedly in the dimly lit kitchen-diner thinking of ways to get out of the house. Could I jump over our back wall...? No... the back door is locked and I don't have the key for it on me. I resign myself to the fact that I'll have to wait for yer man to come back, maybe he went to the jacks upstairs. I open my chipper bag and start eating. Fuck it, it was going cold.

About 5 minutes I hear the stairs creaking. Yes! His missus walks in. No!!! She doesn't spot me and opens the sliding door that splits the dining room and the living room. There he is, lads - spark out on the couch. "Ah for the love of God!" says she. He starts making some pissed mumbles and attempts to get off the couch. "Time for bed" she says.

"Yeah, I better be doing the same myself " says I from dining room.

Now... I'm not sure if you're all tough guys or what but - if you heard a deep voice emanating from a 6' 2", 18 stone shadow dressed in a black hoodie and holding a plastic fork in your dimly lit kitchen - I think it's fair to say that you might get slightly anxious.

"It's me!" I says to her before she freaks out. Then I think "Fuck it. I've rarely spoken to her. 'It's me' is going to mean nothing". Your man spots me over her shoulder and goes "Wahey!" - the cat nap has brought back the party humour to this cunt. She recognises me and says "Oh... I think you'd better head off..."

Her fella (my new best mate) shoots past us and up the stairs. I can hear puking and I try to wrap up my chippy as fast as I can, not easy when you have taco fries, battered sausages, spice burger and garlic mayo all in play. Like I said - we've all been there, don't fuckin' lie to me. Finally get my stuff together and decide I'll make this a jovial explanation departure. "Ah yeah, I was heading out but himself disappeared, I didn't know where and he'd locked your front door with a key after we came in, sure what could I do?". She has a quizical look on her face.

"Locked the front door? With a key?"


"It doesn't lock with a key from the inside" and then she turned the handle the OPPOSITE way to the way I'd been doing it. Oh for fu.... Still the strains of a gawk orchestra from upstairs. "Right so" says I "I'll be off". And hop over the front wall into my own house. I get in the front door and I'm tring to put my chips down somewhere the only place is a little table that I put stuff on the previous week and, despite numerous requests from the wife, I didn't clear up. The alarm is BEEP BEEP BEEPing for the code in the background. FUCK IT! I drop the chips to the ground and just as I hit the panel the thing starts going off WOOOOOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW with blue and white flashing lights (an optional extra - I like to treat myself). I am thumping the code into the control box but it's not working, then I remember that it's a different code, I've been mashing the keys with my ATM number. Reset the bastard and turn back to my food. NOT ONE SINGLE CHIP has come loose from the scrambled packaging. At this point I decide that I've taken enough risks and sit cross-legged on the hall floor eating my dinner. I look up the stairs as my jewel of a wife appear at the very top. "Didn't drop a single chip!" I say to her - this is my "Yo Adrian" moment - I can see in her eyes that she's never been prouder of me. She's so overcome with emotion that she goes straight back to bed.

The next day I'm up and about at around 1000hrs. Not feeling 100% but not bad. She asks me to do the prep in the yard - chairs, tables, parasol etc. "Not a bother" says I. About 20 minutes later she finds me sitting on the one chair that I'd brought out so far. The sweat is pouring out of me faster than I can get water in.

Do you lads have any idea of what hell is? I do.

Standing in front of a pizza oven in your back yard knocking out pies for 12 people and their shitbag kids who keep coming over and saying things like "I didn't want onion" and "I'm a coeliac" at you.

Looking forward to a few pints tonight. I'll tell you that for nothing.