Midweek Drinking at The City Arms

It has a ‘one of those nights’ feel. I’ve had offers of nachos with a person I’ve not seen in a while, a gig, BBQ and music with friends and beers with a mate who’s down from Manchester. I have a headache and I don’t know what to do so I arrange to meet fellow ale drinker and record shop owner Ashli in The City Arms. Couple of pints should make my brain work.

Wood! It's fucking wood!

Wood! It’s fucking wood!

She’s late. I order a Daggers Ale because it has a fucking cool wooden pump crown. Smells a bit of fairground, probably toffee apple but I like the idea of bits of dodgem and teenage lust being in the mix too. It tastes quite sweet, not fruity particularly, just sweet. I like this but am beginning to worry about my dental health.

I’ve just seen a beer called Dorset Knob. I snigger like a child.

I try not to order Dorset Knob. I order Dorset Knob. Ashli says that it lacks the gammy aftertaste you’d usually associate with knob. I’m a knob novice so am just going to state that it smells of caramel and tastes of Fridays. I’m a grown up. I’m not rising to this.

It’s definitely fucking Christmas isn’t it. The Radgie Gadgie tastes of bloody confectionery too. It’s a bit deeper than the knob to be fair. Hits you right in the back of the throat.

If you want to get drunk but feel like you're eating, try this.

If you want to get drunk but feel like you’re eating, try this.

Shining Tsar. Terrible pun and a stout that screams ‘WE’RE NOT SURE WHAT WE’RE DOING BUT IT’S FUCKING STRONG’. Smells of tarmac. Tastes of cough medicine. It’s ruined me. Me perception is ruined now. Maybe one more.

Who knows.

Who knows.

Workie Ticket. I’m pretty sure it was nice but realistically this is a disaster. I can no longer taste or feel anything. I should’ve eaten. It’s time to go home. So I go to a gay bar.

Unsurprisingly there is very little cask ale in Wow, I have a lager but have no idea which one. It doesn’t matter. I don’t finish it. I turn down the offer of going to Pulse but take issue with the bouncer for implying I don’t want to go it because it’s a gay bar rather than because I know how drunk I am and am desperate to get home and watch the cricket.

Drink responsibly kids. Or at the very least, remember to eat something before you get cracking on the ale.

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