On Friday night we went to Tesco. That was our second mistake. Our first mistake was going to B&M before we went to Tesco.
We went out to buy wrapping paper, but came back with proof that neither of us should be allowed out without supervision.
This haul was a result of standing there laughing and going “I dare you to drink that”. The skeleton mask isn’t really relevant, I just wanted to buy it so I did.
Anyway, because deep down we hate ourselves, we decided it would be fun to get shitfaced by drinking stuff that’s two steps up from prison slop bucket moonshine. One of them might actually contain washing powder, we’re not sure.
The plan was fiendishly simple: get a bit hammered on the worst booze in the world and watch shit on Youtube. NOTHING COULD GO WRONG.
First, let me introduce you to our cast for the evening (in order of appearance):
1. Ashfield bitter – 4 cans for a quid.
2. Lambrusco – £2.75.
3. Raw schnapps (street name: V-Kat). £6 for 12 gallons.
4. Angels peach schnapps – can’t remember how much it was in B&M but it was half the price of Tesco own brand. Probably 3p.
5. BRAND X – £7.50. A mysterious concoction that markets itself simply as “alcohol”.
We were especially intrigued by BRAND X, although not necessarily looking forward to drinking it.
These would be our drinking vessels for the evening. Only the best in our house.
Alex optimistically believed that chilling all the booze in the fridge for half an hour would improve the evening. He was wrong.
Right, let’s get smashed.
8.30pm: Ashfield original bitter
AKA “I can’t believe it’s not bitter”.
Worryingly, this bitter comes with its own helpline:
“Shall we phone the helpline?” said Alex.
“Off you go then” I said.
“No” said Alex.
After psyching ourselves up for five minutes, we took a gulp and discovered it tasted like fizzy water. Shouldn’t have been surprised really, the stuff was 25p a can. I imagine it’s what ghost piss would taste like.
We accompanied the bitter with ‘Danny Dyer’s Football Bastards’:
While Mr Dyer was telling the viewers that “all Leeds fans have killed a person at some point in their lives”, we decided we weren’t big fans of Ashfield original bitter. We’d had half a can between us, which meant we were still in possession of three unopened cans. Our plan is to take them to the local night spot (some steps outside the corner shop), and leave them with a note saying “We don’t want these, they’re shit”. It’s nice to know you’re doing some good in the world.
We poured the remaining half a can down the sink. It reacted with… something or other.
“Must of Italy”. What does that even mean?
Anyway, we were more optimistic now that we’d conquered the bitter, and we marched on in our quest to get shitfaced. Until we noticed the alcohol content of this:
Shit. Oh well. Should give it a crack anyway.
Right, three things:
1. Why is it red? I thought Lambrusco was white?
2. Seriously, it was in the white wine section.
3. WHY IS IT FIZZING
Not to be deterred, we steeled ourselves and thought of England. It tasted like off cherryade. A slight improvement on the bitter, anyway.
We paired the wine with something sophisticated and Italian:
At this point I asked Alex, as a man of high culture, for his opinion on the wine:
“When you can’t decide between red, white, rose, sparkling, or a different drink altogether, this still isn’t very nice.”
It stained the kitchen worktop.
9.30pm: V-Kat raw schnapps
The reason this is ‘raw’ is that it’s supposed to be mixed with other stuff. But during one Eurovision a few years back we failed to realise this. V-Kat has been a source of horror ever since. Definitely the one we were most scared of drinking.
If you’ve never had it, V-Kat tastes like death and piss done in a blender. And then you attempt to drink the blender. While it’s still on.
We needed the pliers to open it. It was as if the bottle knew, and was trying to save us from ourselves.
Anyway, there was only one thing that could possibly do V-Kat justice:
There was only one way to tackle this – hold our noses and have a huge gulp. You know, because we’re both idiots.
If ever there was such a thing as ‘baking alcohol’, this is it.
We did a bit better with this than with the previous two, managing to drink a respectable amount. This led to us shouting “BOOM” at random intervals during Protect and Survive. We’d also started pronouncing Norway as ‘Njorway’. Why we were even talking about Norway is lost to the annals of time.
One of the ingredients in V-Kat is “aroma”.
After learning this, we decided to move on, since we still had stuff to do for the rest of our lives.
10.15pm: Angels peach schnapps
Easily the least threatening of the bunch. However, progress was delayed because we couldn’t think of anything suitable to watch with peach schnapps. In the end, we put the word ‘schnapps’ into a word association app, and this is what it came up with:
Which could only mean one thing: videos of dogs falling over. This improved our spirits slightly. Meanwhile, Alex kept referring to it as “shnopps”, until I threatened to confiscate his tape measure and his WD40 (his two favourite things in the world).
Before we started on the schnapps, I tried my skeleton mask on. Looked in the mirror and shit myself a bit, which meant that the V-Kat had probably been successful.
Alex’s review of Angel peach schnapps: “Synthetic peach and all-purpose cleaner, in V-Kat.”
We gave up on the peach schnapps pretty quickly, because we were both so excited to move on to…
10.30pm: BRAND X
Alex insisted on writing “a couple of lines” on BRAND X. Here is the novel he wrote:
“When I was growing up, Brand X was legendary; it was THE brand by which all other brands were measured. Want to sell washing powder? Compare it to Brand X. Toothpaste? Well, is it better than Brand X? Cleaning a bathroom floor with black and white tiles? You better bet they want to be better than Brand X.
Well, ladies and gentlemen – finally, here it is. Brand X. It cleans fabrics, enamel and bathrooms, and contains both kinds of alcohol. My body is ready.”
At this point I forbad Alex from writing any more nonsense.
This is what he meant by “both kinds of alcohol”:
I debated with myself over to whether to phone an ambulance in advance.
In the end, because we are cool and hard, we decided to chance it without medical attention. By this point we gave less fucks than we had done earlier, so we both had half a mug of neat BRAND X. Also, because we weren’t making the best decisions by that point, we came to the conclusion that a good accompaniment would be the FUCKING SHOE PEOPLE.
I don’t know which episodes we watched, because they’re all the same fucking episode.
Conversation went as follows:
Me: “I hate the fucking Shoe People.”
Alex: “Yeah me too.”
Ladies and gentlemen – the shittest Friday night known to man. It didn’t occur to either of us to watch something else.
Anyway, BRAND X, as you might imagine, tasted of watered down brandy. Not even any X in it. ironically, it did taste of old shoes.
By this time we were starting to realise that we’d spent money on a load of horrible booze that we didn’t want, and our spirits began to sag. But then Alex saved the evening with a novel idea:
“I know what would be good – why don’t you wear the kitchen bin for a bit?”
I considered his proposal.
“OK, but only if I can wear my skeleton mask as well.”
And that concluded the formal section of our evening. At around half 11 Alex poured himself half a pint of BRAND X. He wouldn’t explain why.
Probably don’t do this lads.