Proof Reads

 By Patrick Garrigan

Hello. My name is Patrick Garrigan and I have a problem: I don’t like beer or wine. Phew, good, it’s glad to actually put that down and get it out there. Except, of course, everyone that I know that has ever been around me at the same time as alcohol already knows, and as strange as they may find it they’ve grown to accept (if not understand) my flavoured-ethanol preference. You, however, are presumably a stranger and on the whole will be surprised, shocked, perturbed and possibly sexually distanced from me on discovering this fact. If we were having this discussion in person then experience has taught me that the conversation would be likely to flow thus..

You: You don’t like beer or wine?

Me: Nope.

You: Neither of them?

Me: Nuh-huh. (you can’t tell on the internet but in person my voice would already sound bored with a hint of frustration.)

You: What about lager?

Me: No, no, that’s more or less the same, really. Hops, brewing, that kind of thing.

You: Yeah, but, like, just Fosters or something?

Me: I don’t think you’re getting it.

You: What about Frulli? Or white beers? Ooh, or *insert personally specific you-think-it’s-an-obscure-brewed-ale-but-acually-everyone-drinks-it here*

Me: No, just none of them, I don’t like anything of that ilk.

You would then be so flabbergasted at my responses that you’d very quickly move on to..

You: Not even a nice white wine? With lemonade!?

Me: No. Look. I can’t explain this any more. I don’t like beer, I don’t like wine, there’s lots of things I do drink that aren’t within those groups. Okay?

You: …Rosé?

Then we’d keep going round in circles. You’d eventually get the picture, we’d maybe talk a bit more before we both got drunk enough that you’d be drinking spirits too and it wouldn’t matter anymore. It’s good when we get to that point, tequila and vodka go down well.

People also enjoy telling me that they’re sorry for how expensive my life must be too. But personally I couldn’t disagree more. If I’m on a night out, I’ll get a nice amaretto and coke (venue dependent, naturally. Well done: Brudenell Social Club, Wi:re, Sandanista and a fair-few other places in Leeds, it’s a good city) and drink it at the speed of a pint and enjoy it an awful lot more. And more’s to the point, when in Tesco/Asda/Morrisons and getting alcohol for myself I’d way rather get a big ol’ bottle of lovely, delicious, high alcohol percentaged spirit over a crate of beer any day.

Ultimately everyone accepts everything and we all get on, but I’m just so ruddy bored of going through this rigmarole with new people that it completely does my head inwards upon itself like a bad independent film would. Here we get to my point (if, that is, there is one) - once the sentence “I don’t really like beer or wine” has passed my lips can that please, please be the end of it? If, for example, I’d just said “I don’t really like aubergine” there’d probably be very little conversation (unless you completely adored said purple, bulbous vegetable). There would probably even be less argument if I admitted to not liking The Inbetweeners, or only having ever seen a few episodes of The Wire, or completely missing out on Apocalypse Now. Actually, I take the last one back, with the amount of film makers I know that would probably have my lynched. But my rambling, badly made point still stands. The fact that I don’t like these things doesn’t make me any less of a person, or a drinker, or a social fucking delight.

I’m not quite as angry about this as I make out, honestly, I’m just really bored of it. So if you could pass this message on to everyone you think may ever meet me then I’d be very appreciative and next time I see you I’ll buy you a drink. But careful what you ask for. If you’ve not heard, I’m quite picky.