Tag: beer

Tiggy’s Shopping Bizarre: Happy Panda-Seal Yummy Beer Twigs

If I'm honest, I really have no idea what this is.

Beer drinkers! Do you enjoy spending the day consuming your body weight in hoppy alcoholic products – I know I do! Don’t want to waste your precious drinking time or money on food? Fortunately those boozy boffins in Japan have been working on a super new bar snack that satisfies all your nutritional needs!

Happy Panda-Seal Yummy Beer Twigs are fashioned from shards of ancient cherry trees grown in the shadow of Mount Fuji. Each stick is delicately flavoured with tasty Teriyaki whale and a hint of Kyoto extract. One pack contains all the goodness your liver and digestive system desperately crave!

* Those 24-hour booze binges will be a breeze with just a handful of Beer Twigs – you’ll have enough energy to drink all night! Laugh at your fast-food stuffed friends as they vomit their undigested burgers all over the street.

* Beer Twigs are perfect for those wilderness campsite drinking sessions – you can even use them to start your camp fire! Simply rub two sticks together to spark an instant flame (remove from mouth before attempting to light).

* Beer Twigs can also be used as hamster bedding, loft insulation, or glue them together to create your own beer twig Bonsai tree! Ahhh so!


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Losin’ My Muse

I’ve lost my muse. My supernatural writing mentor vanished two weeks ago, leaving me alone and devoid of inspiration. Unfinished blog drafts sit neglected on my desk; a half-written movie script collects dust instead of Oscars; even my shopping lists are dull and lacking in pace.

Have you seen this chicken... I mean, man?Have you seen my muse anywhere? He’s an overweight, hairy guy called Dave. I know muses are usually beautiful Greek goddesses, but Dave was cheaper. I thought we would work well together. He wasn’t bothered about grammar rules and all that verb-participle stuff, but he liked a good laugh and a cold beer. So I took my chances with Dave.

Maybe it’s my fault. I didn’t appreciate him when he was around. To be honest, he spent most of the time asleep on my couch, waking only to scratch his ass and shout “Have ya written anything yet? No? Get on with it! Write about bees or something.” Then he would fall back into a drunken coma. Did I mention he liked his beer?

Dave might have been drunk and asleep most of the time, but whenever I felt my inspiration slipping away I could rely on him to slap me on the back, belch into my ear, and give me a few words of wisdom:

“Get drunk. Works for me!”
“Copy someone else’s stuff!”
“Go for a walk. I’ll come with ya, if we can stop at the hot dog stand.”
“Drink more.”
“Why don’t ya write about bees?”

Sometimes Dave would disappear for days on end. He would always let me know where he was going; he was good like that. He would leave post-it notes on my desk that read “Bored. See you Tuesday” or “Gone to a rock festival – back when sober”. Oh well, at least Dave’s absence gave me an excuse to procrastinate. I’d work on that storyboard when he got back.

Writer's block? Blame hot dog eating competitions.One time, Dave attended a muse convention. Muses from around the world came together, shared their literary horror stories, and took the piss out of their protégés. There were drinking games and hot dog-eating competitions too. Dave returned from the convention hungover and smelling of mustard. I had hoped he’d learned something, and would be bursting with inspiration.
“I got nuthin’ for ya. Wake me up in a few days and we’ll work on that bee story.”

This time, Dave didn’t leave a note. He just left. Maybe he read my latest script and lost the will to live. Maybe he was tired of all my penis jokes (and no man, not even Dave, can persuade me that a penis is not funny). Maybe he is now asleep on someone else’s couch, smelling of beer and mumbling about bees.

If you have my muse, please, please can you send him back? I promise to be a more attentive student. I promise to get that story finished. Tell him I have hot dogs.


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Piss-Up In A Brewery

Beer and BeerI was invited to the launch of a new beer at a local brewery. Free beer all night. Free food and entertainment. A dream come true!

I arrived early, dangling my party pass at a group of tourists on a brewery tour. They must have thought I was a local celeb attending an exclusive bash. I felt very hip.

I rushed towards the loud music and aroma of sweet, fresh brew. Huge illuminated cases of icy beer filled every corner. “Try our new beer!” beamed a bikini-clad blonde as she thrust her hand into the ice and pulled out a chilled bottle. Forget the feminist implications of this sexist PR tactic, I thought, this chick has free booze.

Cheesy Things
A large buffet table groaning with crudités, nachos and unidentifiable cheesy things was beckoning. Ignoring the more nutritious offerings, I dived straight into the chips and cheesy things. It was plentiful and free.

Two hours and five beers later I was still going strong. Beer tasted so much sweeter when it was free. But the bikini-clad girl’s smile had turned to a grimace. She was probably wishing everyone would go home. All right, she had to stand next to a freezer in her undies all night, but the beer wouldn’t open itself, would it?

Five hours and an unknown number of beers later I was struggling. I couldn’t leave – there were still bottles in the case, swimming amongst the melting ice cubes. Bikini girl was nowhere to be seen. The buffet was empty except for the crudités.

Grease
I chewed on a raw carrot but my stomach required grease to hold down the beer. I had to pee for the eighth time in an hour. My hazy brain reminded me I had work in the morning. I would leave, but I couldn’t stand up. The carrot was threatening a comeback. I never wanted to see another bottle of beer again. I had learned my lesson.

Annoyingly, I’ve just been invited to an exclusive party at a cocktail bar. I don’t want to appear ungrateful so I will just pop my head round the door and say hello. Maybe just one little drink…


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