Bottlin’, whilst not something that happened recently, actually did occur in 1989. I was 26 and was rumoured to have hollow legs. I could drink without ever suffering the consequences of my actions. I had a special ‘punch bowl’ at the bar and it was engraved specifically to me, and as a challenge l would ‘dare’ the regulars to put any amount or style of drink into it and l would swallow it in one!

After the pub, l would help myself to a ‘healthy’ portion of doner kebab, complete with both chilli peppers and the hottest sauce known to mankind, a large portion of chips and off l would dawdle leaving those who had seen me guzzle puzzling as to why and how the drink never affected me? But l never got drunk, and l never once ever had experienced a hangover, by my 40’s this would change.

Ah, to be so young and stupid eh?

These days, half a glass of wine and l am tipsy, any more than that, and l am happy, more still and l am hugging the table, and more still under the table!

When 1999 became 2000, so 18 years ago now, or in chronological terms  37 years of age, the drink started to take its toll upon my very soul. That year exchange saw a man who became drunk after opening the door to see the thousands of spectacular fireworks that exploded over the nights’ skies.

The night had seen me mix grape and grain, a nasty combo – the moment the door opened to the world and my safety bubble burst and within seconds became horribly drunk and so for my wife, albeit ex now, she and her family witnessed three hours of capers from me!

A drunken wild pixie let loose indeed.

I joined down the street a 100 strong Congo line and l tap danced on a police car, [luckily l wasn’t arrested], got dragged semi naked through a dog thorn rose bush, peed in the fridge, spoken to the Christmas tree fairy like she was real, groped my wife’s best friend, and starting thinking l was a ninja in the ex parent in laws back garden, dressed only in my socks and boxer shorts whilst trying to ring the Starship Enterprise using my mobile phone and the garden ducks were my comrades looking to be beamed up!

1st January 2000 l had the hangover from hell

Yes, l know what you are thinking!

Drink and l are no longer a Bottlin together, it is safe to say … so this poem is dedicated to moments of claret’y in my life!



Pub crawl with the lads later on tonight,
Our task, to sample A – Z in drinking delights!
Will l be bamboozled by a few mere slugs?
Or will l prove them wrong, and drop at the last plug?

Not really a drinker, think it’s safe to be said,
Sadly now, a few tipples and it’s straight to me ‘ead!
Yet, a challenge has been set and l must stand proud!
Prove my manhood to the boisterous crowd!

Thoroughly researched this heavy drinking lark!
Will definitely be prepared, walk in the park!
Show these youngsters a thing or two, indeed
No way, will l withdraw from this task or concede!

Been topping up on my bread and water intake,
Properly geared up l will be, make no mistake!
All met at The Slaughtered Lamb at eight,
Knowing full well, our ‘session’ might end late,

And so started the evening’s quiz of A – Z drinking!
Landlords’ mind working overtime on the thinking!
Night starts with a pint of the pubs’ finest ale,
Chickens’ Testicular‘, already enough to make one pale!

Following this was a small wee shot of brandy,
Holding steady l am at the mix, and feeling quite dandy!
Lads now suggest the alphabet might go wrong?
BUT, cocktails would make the evening’s song!

Cocktails by far and far the easiest to conjure up,
Hosting many alcohol’s types for the measuring cup!
So along comes the shooter, Alabama Slammer!
On top of the Ale and Brandy hit me like a hammer!

Next came a fluffy drink called Black Velvet,
Then Cape Samurai, Dirty Bird, Envy and my sweat!
Have to be honest; my head’s spinning all around me!
Yet still l drink on, and am awarded with a Fancy Whiskey!

Ginger Snap Martini, Herbal Pleasures indeed a sensation!
Drinking l can see is a real happy inspiration,
Music as loud as can be, l am starting to get into spirit,
Drinking my Imperial Fizz, Jellyfish and Kiwi Mango Mint!

Aye aye whatsh up ladsh?’ I shout above the loud lot,
Guzzling upon my Lagoon Punch and Margarita Jelly Shhot!
Itsh alright thish drinking thing’ I say with my head bobbing,
Deshpite if l am honesht, thatsh my headsh sheems to be throbbing!

Yet still l drink on, proud and oblivious to the gruesome,
That our drinking party is shrinking to a few more than a twosome!
Have you had enough to drink Tom?” Asks the landlord‘
Not at all mate hic, weish hic only at M, not even hic bored!’

Came next Negroni, and then l had an Orgashm!
Sitting on my chair, my legs sort of had a spasm!
Passhion Pearl and a Pearl Harbour to make up for no Q,
Red Shnapper, Shcrewdriver, and a Tequila Shunrise too!

Union Shquare, Vampire Juice, and now we are two!?
Whatsh hic happened, wheresh hic the othersh-gone tshoo?
Landlord Jim answers with a smile, “You beat them mate!”
“Rweally? But itsh still early, not even late! “

“Ok, letsh hic hic finish whatsh wash shtarted, letsh shee next!”
Whishpersh of the Frosht, then XUXUbana, seriously complex!
Yellow Shubmarine and finally came the Zzhombie Punch!
A – Zsh completely shmashed, an alcoholic late night lunch!

I look around me hic, in complete and hic utter shurprishe
At the Shlaughtered Lambsh regularsh wide open eyesh!
Holding myshelf shteady, shomebody saysh ‘Tom your Shhout?’
No shthanksh ladsh, for thish round thinksh l will be bottlin’ out!’


© Rory Matier 2012

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