“Or at least stick to something mild on your cornflakes. Gin? Oh, for Christ’s sake.”
Having utterly failed to convince even a single man, woman or child in Britain to slightly moderate their drinking habits, or “lives” as they are otherwise known, parliament has released a set of guidelines ironically entitled “We Give Up” to try to corral the average Brit into simply laying off the absinthe for as little as 48 hours.
The report has been met with laughter, derision, and in true British style even got its face kicked in by some tanked up arseholes in Nuneaton.
Aside from the frank admission that Britain as a concept is now pretty much constantly blitzed (look at a map of the globe. Britain would describe itself as existing at a ‘jaunty’ angle, but we all know that that lean is way more of a ‘four pint stumbly’ angle), two overriding truths have been revealed about our great land.
First, it has become apparent that whoever is in charge of alcohol guidelines is an absolute, perfectly formed moron. The new guidelines, published 2012, have come about because the old guidelines, published 1995, “appeared to endorse daily drinking” (direct quote that, a real one too and not one I’ve just made up for a change).
It has taken in excess of 16 (SIXTEEN!) years for anybody in a position of authority to notice that guidelines which suggest that people imbibe no more than 4 units of booze daily might, just might, make it seem like daily drinking was ok. Apparently the word ‘daily’ was meant to be taken in a much less literal context than the word ‘daily’ is often understood. Or in the lesser-known alternative meaning of the word, which must be ‘not every day’.
Perhaps if they were trying to avoid daily drinking, they might have used a less misleading word than ‘daily’ to achieve that end. Just a thought.
“You must eat your 5-a-day. And what we obviously mean by this is three carrots a year.No, I don’t see how you could have interpreted that statement in any other way.”
The second, more heartening revelation is that the people of Britain are capable, and have indeed been engaged in, mass collective action on an astounding scale.
According to the figures, 90% of people are aware of the existence of alcoholic ‘units’ but an astounding 107% of people are unable to specify what this translates to in the glass. This is, of course, bullshit. We all know a unit is about three measly sips of Tesco value wine, or an eighth of a pint, or something equally unrealistically tiny. So we have entered into a mass deception to fool the authorities whereby units are a complete mystery, and we can thereby continue getting absolutely slashed with a squeaky clean conscience.
Most people choose to describe a unit as “a quarter of what I have drunk and will drink this evening”, but others are bolder and more fanciful and claim that a unit is an incredibly rare bird that lives in the Amazon, and it is therefore difficult, not to mention unethical, to consume four in a day. Some have bastardised the “one glass = one unit” methodology with gusto, becoming wonderfully liberal with what constitutes one drink. Triple whisky. One glass, one unit. Yard of White Lightning. One glass, one unit. Industrial-sized bottle of Ouzo. Technically One glass, one unit.
It’s as though acknowledging something exists exempts us from any further knowledge of it.
“I’m aware of the existence of ‘the law’, but as I can’t conceptualise it adequately I’m going to stove this man’s face in with a sharp lizard and you will have no power to stop me.”
Would be an extreme example of this logic.
To celebrate the new alcohol guidelines I’ll be having two days away from drink and then enjoying a rather large bottle of Scotch with supper on Friday.
One glass, one unit.