Alcohol does funny things to us. This is essentially why we drink it. Many of these effects are positive; happiness, contentment, the never before noticed possession of the wisdom of Buddha, even sudden Jäger fuelled bursts of self confidence. After a night of intensive Fernet Branca research I once hit on Shania Twain convinced I was in with a chance (I wasn’t), and I know guys who would never have successfully lost their virginities without the steady application of Tequila.
That said it is also unfortunately responsible for some near biblical lapses of judgement; such as in the man who got naked and danced on my bar whilst touching himself inappropriately, thus earning himself the nickname ‘stumpy’. This is because deep down inside all of us, in a place we don’t like to talk about…there be monsters.
Like Snow White’s companions there are seven of these vicious beasts to choose from. Unlike her merry band of lovable dwarves however these creatures do not have cute button noses and a song in their hearts; they are vodka spawned hell demons just waiting for that first sip of Mescal to get loose and the only thing in their black hearts is a ceaseless yearning to mess up your world.
To fight them you must know them.
Angry: When Angry busts loose from the dark place no one is safe from their boundless rage and occasional bouts of superhuman strength. Suddenly someone with the outward demeanor of Santa Claus needs three bouncers to take down, all the time kicking, biting and making spurious claims about people’s mothers. Possessed of an irrational hatred of pretty much everything, Angry can find implied insult in any phrase or sentence. Just tell them they look nice and brace yourself for the inevitable, ‘who you calling nice, k**b cheese?” Like Bruce Banner their owners are the most likely to wake up with mystery bruises and torn trousers in a hedgerow, or perhaps even a nice police cell, with absolutely no memory of how they got there.
Pukey: Possessing the best overall range of any of its brother monsters, Pukey can strike anywhere, or on anyone, though is most often seen at Christmas parties or anywhere near the words ‘free bar.’ Pukey does not require an experienced woodsman to track and its calling card of high velocity spatter can vary in texture from ‘thin and frothy, to ‘shockingly lumpy’ and even ‘this s**t sticks like velcro.’ It is thanks to the existence of Pukey that no professional bartender ever opens a toilet door without mixed feelings of apprehension and fear.
Pyro: Candles on tables are practically an invitation to this savage little imp, and all bartenders need be on guard for the drifting smell of burning plastic from laminated menus as the pre-curser to outright arson. (NB: This is not just limited to customers. One Australian bartender has set fire to me twice whilst attempting a Brandy Blazer. I in turn have assured him I will set fire to his house if he ever does it again.) Whilst rare, Pyro does tend to make a memorable entrance. It is also often accompanied by a friend or colleague yelling, “give…me…the-f*****g-…lighter, Dave!”
Clepto: Ever vigilant for stuff that’s not nailed down, or which have yet to feel the tender kiss of a solvent gun, Clepto covets a nice souvenir of their evening to take home and once unleashed nothing is safe from them; from shot-glasses, to street signs and even the shiny bits on cars. In fact, left to their own devices they will make a play for the taps in the bathroom and take the ceramic lion on the roof of the Crown and Lion as a worthy challenge. Strangely Clepto’s are particularly common in university towns where they have been known to move in packs.
Humpy: Possessing a particularly thick pair of magic ‘beer goggles’ that take at least thirty pounds off anyone viewed through them or adds a six pack, Humpy is the master of the ill advised choice and close friends with both regret and the queue at the local sexual health clinic. Many who have fallen foul of Humpy have woken with something resembling the Kraken sharing a duvet with them the following morning. Anyone harboring this particular monster should avoid Vegas or any other city with fast track marriage laws.
Sleepy: Though the least likely to cause any actual physical damage, Sleepy can rear its drooping eyelids and overactive saliva gland at anytime day or night and does not require a bed, couch or even a comfy spot to ply its trade. Sleepy is usually accompanied by a friend who uses words like ‘nah, he’s fine’, whilst attempting to wave their limp hand like something from Weekend at Bernie’s. Many a drinker afflicted with this particular villain has found themselves in the dark bathroom of a closed nightclub or bar that the staff assured their manager they had checked, or on a bus that ultimately terminates in Belgium, just moments before it pulls into Bruges’ picturesque station.
Morose: Morose believes they have nothing to live for. Further questioning will reveal them to be a lecturer in neuro surgery at a respected university with two beautiful kids and a spouse that used to do porn. When you mention this to them they will cry and thank you for understanding their pain. Removing their tie and shoelaces and not letting them near anything pointy is always a good idea.
Are you in possession of a monster we’ve missed? If so let us know in the comments section below, or via twitter @bezerkskhaus.
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5 thoughts on “It’s alive! The seven alco-monsters lurking inside you.”
I can vouch for Clepto, at least in my uni days anyway! Whilst attending Nottingham Trent University we once stole a lampost with traffic lights on from the side of the road as they were doing roadworks. When we eventually got them home a friend managed to convince me that trying to hook them up in some crude manor to the mains electric “to see if they work” was not a good idea!
Now that is a beer trophy. Maximum points.
What about Exacly?… the redundant monster that, to every booze addled comment one makes about polititics, religion, the state of the world, marriage, or members of the other sex, mumbles a concurring and resolute “Exacly!”
Ah yes, The Agreement monster, the one that made me claim that drum and bass was the only artistic medium that mattered anymore. Shameful.
I guess the Drama Llama is a mix of Morose and Angry. But still…
I have met every one of these. Hell, some unfortunate nights I’ve been every one of these. Thankfully most of the time I’m perfect, though.
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