My name’s Graeme and I like beer.

Over the coming months I’ll be going on the lash, purely for your benefit, to bring you the lowdown on what’s happening drinkswise in this city that we call home.

I’m very excited about the prospect of writing a drinks column. Such is the prominence of booze in our culture that alcohol has muscled its way in on the very act of quenching thirst.

“Are you going for a drink?” is a question that only the most naive could take to mean a fruit juice, milkshake or fizzy water.

I can’t speak for any other country than my own, but on these shores at least, drink, both as a verb and an adjective, is taken as read to mean alcohol.

When someone tells you they’ve stopped drinking, rather than fear for their hydration, it’s safe to assume their abstinence only applies to intoxicating liquor. The next step would be to speculate it’s a decision for the better in respect of their health or temperament.

Talk of people having a ‘drink problem’ is a favourite topic among gossips. Funny enough you rarely hear someone described as having a ‘food problem’. Instead there’s a world of other insults to fit the bill.

There have been occasions when I’ve felt guilty about spending too much time in the pub, but now that I’ve got a drinks column I’ll be legitimately able to use the excuse that I’m working when faced with a guilt trip about any of my other responsibilities.




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