Johnnie Wall won’t be giving up his pint for Lent…due to philanthropic and social reasons of course! 

LENT is close at hand (February 14) and you are probably considering what you are going to give up for the seven weeks.

Before you make any drastic decision to go ‘tee-total’, spare a thought for the poor people who work in the breweries and how their livelihoods might be affected by the sudden nose-dive in demand that your decision could have.

Brewers on three-day weeks, incomes slashed, wages diminished and all because you and I are so selfish to give up drink for Lent. Some of the nicest words in the world that you hear from your friends are – ‘come on, let’s go for a pint’ – those few words always lift my heart.

Going to the pub is a great relief from all the everyday stress and, in reality, without that break away from it all, a person could crack up.

When you get to your destination and place your order, the anticipation builds, a bit of nervous banter with your companions will ensue, however the focus of all attention is on the arrival of that liquid nectar – the preferred drink of the ordinary man – a ‘pint of plain’.

As the pint is placed in front of you –  all 568.26 millilitres of it, by the way, if you are in the USA your pint will only consist of 473.17 millilitres, a great deficit which does no justice to the taste.

Anyway, as I was saying, as the pint is placed in front of you, it requires study, conceived in its current form in 1759, there is over 250 years of thought, knowledge, expertise and refinement into the making and pouring of that velvety black liquid and you have to do it justice by studying it for a while before raising it to your lips.

Your friends will now commence the first real discussion of the evening and that will invariably be about the pint itself – is it good pint or a bad pint?  All will be determined by that first sip or gulp.

A friend of mine always says; ‘The nicest pint is the first and then of course the last’, always leaving a taste of ‘more’.

Some pubs, especially the older establishments, serve a great pint and while my up-to-date experience is limited, I’m not too sure about the ‘disco bars’ as they tend to serve more fashionable drinks like Mojito’s or the latest craze in cocktails and are not inclined to put the time or effort into pouring or filling a proper pint.

As all you connoisseurs of the black stuff will know, the top or head of the pint is a clear indicator of how good a pint it is – if it has the collar of a bishop or the small collar of a trainee cleric you’re in trouble.

The right size of collar is ¾ of an inch and it must stay on top until you sup the last drop from the glass.

Ahh! That feels good just thinking and writing about it.

Another beneficial thing about going to the pub is that it is the only place where you can discuss the highs and lows, rights and wrongs, of sport, politics, religion and government with such clarity and attention to detail that only accompanies six or seven pints.

Every good bar has a resident ‘expert’, the guy who nurses a pint, swilling it around a half empty glass until he finds a ‘victim’.

He is the guy who sits at the end of the counter as if the stool and corner were designed especially around him.

He is the font of all knowledge and will have no qualms about dispensing his wisdom, whether asked to join in the conversation or not.

People like this are wasted in their current role and should be employed by Google as they have all the answers and with such an in-built store of knowledge are virtual walking and talking wikipedias, more suited to being Taoiseach or managing Manchester United.

After a few pints  you begin to agree with this ‘resident expert’  – this is a sure sign that you are ‘over your limit’ and it is time to call a halt to proceedings.

However, the mantra that the best pint is ‘the first and the last’ hangs over you as gospel, as if it were one of the ten commandments, never to be challenged or disobeyed.

Thus you rationalise the fact that you are going to have another and you order your last pint of the night.

My motto is ‘never drink excessively’, unless you are getting it free of charge, in such cases you are always willing to accept the inevitable consequences – that little man who pounds your head the following day.

However, assuming you have to pay for the stuff yourself, a pint or two is good for you – it soothes the savage soul, calms the monster within.

That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

The great Flann O’Brien wrote;

‘When food is scarce and your larder is bare

And no rashers grease your pan

When your hunger grows as your meals get rare

A pint of plain is your only man’

Drink Responsibly! Cheers!

The Wailing Wall