The Czech Republic is undergoing something of a drinking problem. The problem is that some buffoon has been poisoning and bootlegging batches of spirits, whereby some 19 people have died as a result. To what end and for what purpose is unclear, but I’d imagine money is some kind of motivation. As a result, the government has sought fit to ban the sale of any alcohol over 20%. You can drink wine and beer, or take a shot of port if you fancy. I don’t recommend it. In these economically trying times, the catering industry is going to suffer. In the short-term, it is the general public who feel the strain, as there is only so much beer one can handle. A student town with the students just coming back to a blanket ban on booze. The black market will thrive as prohibition takes hold. I feel for 1920’s America. Eliot Ness used to be something of a hero of mine. If I’d lived back then he would have just been a fun police kill-joy bastard.
The beer belly is suffering. At some point soon I need to take it easy, get on the wagon and use the skip rope I bought back in Prague. It’s had one outing and I lasted five minutes. It didn’t help that I’m totally inept and I kept smacking the back of my head with it. Nonetheless it shall be taken out of the bag again soon. Probably to put it in the bin.
Once more the dance floor empties and is only occupied by instant couples who met an hour ago and are grinding to a slow tune like it’s the first dance of their wedding. I look on in jealousy and disgust. Swallowing the last dregs of yet another ale, I throw a passing nod to my friend Oscar who has been engrossed with a young lady since arriving, and head for the door. I’m closely followed by a rather awkward hostel tag-along who has the social skills of a plank. As a last-ditch attempt to talk to a girl, I use the old “do you have a lighter?” line to a pretty one outside. This never works. Except for some reason I find her walking my way in step, ‘Sebulba’ following close behind. The three of us fall into an all night cafe-bar for a beer and a burger.
As soon as she tells me she likes Batman and displays a pin badge that reads ‘NOLAN’, I plant a kiss on her lips and ask her to marry me. Sebulba doesn’t get the hint, and sits cramming his face with beef, or instigating dull conversation. It takes Oscar to locate us sometime later and take one for the team before I walk her home. She’s scribbled her face book details in Mascara. By the time I return to the hostel it’s all smudged.
Prohibition
The Czech Republic is undergoing something of a drinking problem. The problem is that some buffoon has been poisoning and bootlegging batches of spirits, whereby some 19 people have died as a result. To what end and for what purpose is unclear, but I’d imagine money is some kind of motivation. As a result, the government has sought fit to ban the sale of any alcohol over 20%. You can drink wine and beer, or take a shot of port if you fancy. I don’t recommend it. In these economically trying times, the catering industry is going to suffer. In the short-term, it is the general public who feel the strain, as there is only so much beer one can handle. A student town with the students just coming back to a blanket ban on booze. The black market will thrive as prohibition takes hold. I feel for 1920’s America. Eliot Ness used to be something of a hero of mine. If I’d lived back then he would have just been a fun police kill-joy bastard.
The beer belly is suffering. At some point soon I need to take it easy, get on the wagon and use the skip rope I bought back in Prague. It’s had one outing and I lasted five minutes. It didn’t help that I’m totally inept and I kept smacking the back of my head with it. Nonetheless it shall be taken out of the bag again soon. Probably to put it in the bin.
Once more the dance floor empties and is only occupied by instant couples who met an hour ago and are grinding to a slow tune like it’s the first dance of their wedding. I look on in jealousy and disgust. Swallowing the last dregs of yet another ale, I throw a passing nod to my friend Oscar who has been engrossed with a young lady since arriving, and head for the door. I’m closely followed by a rather awkward hostel tag-along who has the social skills of a plank. As a last-ditch attempt to talk to a girl, I use the old “do you have a lighter?” line to a pretty one outside. This never works. Except for some reason I find her walking my way in step, ‘Sebulba’ following close behind. The three of us fall into an all night cafe-bar for a beer and a burger.
As soon as she tells me she likes Batman and displays a pin badge that reads ‘NOLAN’, I plant a kiss on her lips and ask her to marry me. Sebulba doesn’t get the hint, and sits cramming his face with beef, or instigating dull conversation. It takes Oscar to locate us sometime later and take one for the team before I walk her home. She’s scribbled her face book details in Mascara. By the time I return to the hostel it’s all smudged.