I was hoping that the night would provide plenty of blogging material, but at the end of the day it was just Mad Dog, Uncle Flicko and Erik the Viking tasting exciting beers.
So instead, and I'm sure I'll regret this, I'm just going to tell you a nonsense story using the names of some of the beer names that we encountered. It is one hundred percent mindless drivel and I
The Legless Rambler was off rambling. He wasn't feeling well, a Skullsplitter of a headache and an encounter with Blarney Bear and a Mudpuppy had left him in a foul mood, grumbling that there was a Common Conspiracy to destroy his walk. "I don't feel well," he thought, "if only Dr. Hexter's Healer" was here. To make matters worse the shrill clucking of pheasants was driving him Hopping Mad. "I can't stand these Plucking Pheasants," he growled, "and this Blessed Thistle is so prickly". Out of the blue a Pontus Hebdanus suffering from March Madness stole his clothes. "Damn I have a Chilly Willy!" he exclaimed. A Wolf Whistle sounded out, and as he turned round he saw the Chocolate Rabbit standing there. "Yule be Sorry," he muttered. And then he died, crushed by St. Cuthman's Red Wheelbarrow.
P.S. St Cuthman's Red Wheelbarrow is a dark red 10% beer, you may have seen it in my Twitter updates and it made this morning feel very early.
P.P.S. Many thanks to Minka and Pseudonymous High School Teacher who both kindly gave me a "When Life Hands You Lemons" award, I'm really grateful and will try and do the appropriate followup over the weekend.