Tag Archives: alcohol

2647. Habitual drinking

Hello. My name is Francine.

What I particularly like about my daily walk is that it’s always only several hours before I have a drink. I am very regular in my habits. I go for a short walk after lunch at one o’clock and then at three o’clock I like to open a bottle of wine and watch my favourite soap on television.

I’m as regular as clockwork in my drinking habits. Someone tried to tell me that I was an alcoholic. Nonsense! I’m habitual in my drinking but not an alcoholic. It’s now just a few minutes to three, so I’ll get out the glass and bottle in preparation.

Oh golly! Someone has just pulled up in a car on my driveway. It’s Maisie McGurkin. That wretched woman doesn’t drink. Only tea and coffee and sometimes water. Water! Thank goodness I had a little wine with my lunch.

2643. To be open

The headmaster of the high school was a raging alcoholic. Frequently in the evenings, especially on a Friday and on weekends, he would be seen on the street by students of the school. He would be clutching a paper bag with a bottle inside, and be saying “How do you do?” to anyone who passed by.

Things were getting serious. A group of parents decided to confront him. He accepted what they said. He said he would admit to his problem and join an Alcoholics Anonymous program. To help him face it, he wanted to speak to the oldest students of the school, admit to his alcoholism, and ask for their support.

The students gathered. The headmaster entered the room. There was a faint smell of gin. He announced to the students that he was going away for a while. He explained why. He asked for their support. It was very moving.

The headmaster then went to leave and walked slap-bang into the closed exit door. The students laughed. All was ruined.

2098. An interview with Silenus

Interviewer: What a thrill! I have the opportunity to interview Silenus. Silenus is an old drunkard who taught Dionysus how to party. Dionysus is the Ancient Greek God of Wine. Silenus himself is the God of Dance, the God of the Wine Press, and the God of Drunkenness.

Good evening, Silenus. Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed.

Silenus: My pleashure. It’s not often I can afford to take time out from dwinking to indulge in a bit of interfornification, if that’s what ya call it. I had to shneak away from Dionysus to do thish interview. Last time I shneaked away he changed this guy’s ears into donkey’s ears. At leasht that’s what I remember. Dwink? It’s not just wine I’m the god of but other shtuff as well like whishkey and vodka. Shherry. When I go to the dwink shhop I always look at the label not to see what type of booze it is but to check on the alcoholic percentage. That’s why I’m not fond of beer. Ya have to dwink a lot of beer to get dwunk and then I end up pisshing in my pants half the night. Not that I wear pantsh as ya can see. So how ya doing?

Interviewer: I’m fine thanks. And I was wondering if…

Silenus: One of the things people don’t know is that mosht of the gods up here are fucking pisshheads. Pisshhead is a Britishh term meaning ya get totally dwunk mosht daysh. It’s alsho used in Aushtralia and placesh like that. So anyway, mosht of the gods up here are pisshheads. I taught mosht of them how to party – it’s my job – but a good number of them these days know how to party a lot more than I taught them. Aphrodite has her work cut out all day every day and there’s not much I taught her I can tell ya. When I vishit her she’s busy busy busy. I don’t know how she fits everyone in.

Interviewer: Do you still operate in teaching people how to party today or was it something you did only in ancient times?

Silenus: I’m busy in the modern world. I did a good job on Hunt…

(The interview seems to have been suddenly and mysteriously terminated).

2045. Habitual drinking

It was nine in the morning and Roland worked out that it was only eight hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was ten in the morning and Roland worked out that it was only seven hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was eleven in the morning and Roland worked out that it was only six hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was mid – midday – eleven o’clock? – midday and Roland worked out that it was only a few hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was sometime in the afternoon and Roland worked out that it was only a short few hours before he could have a dwink. He never dwank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was now five in the afternoon – apparently – and when he went to get a bottle out of the cabinet there was none there. His wife had took it. She was an alohol… alohole… drunk. He wluld have to get the wine out from umder the bed. He kept it hidden there to stop his alcoholic wife from scoffing it all down.

It was now six firty in the early evening and his wife was on the phone trying to order takeaway.  “Just give us the zame as yesterday. And do you serve alcol? You don’t? Well it looks like I’m in for a dry evening.”

1748. Glorious sunset!

You know, Penelope, I could stand here and look at the sunset all day. Gold over a diamond mountain, I say. Simply glorious! So lovely to stand here of an evening and let it wash over one.

Yes, I would love it; I’d love another martini thank you. And the stars! One can barely see them in the golden light, Penelope. But Venus, at least I think it’s Venus, glimmers so brightly. It’s the only star in the evening sky that I recognize.

Thank you! Yes a Martini is the only way to go on an occasion such as this. And yes, I will have a second cheese and olive on a toothpick with just a hint of cayenne and a slice of salami. Superb!

At first the sky was crimson; dark velvet crimson. And slowly it transformed into a golden luminosity. I half expect a choir of angels to make an appearance. No film director could produce such wonder.

Goodness! You’re right. The scene does make me imbibe a little faster than usual. Yes, I shall have another Martini, but make it a double least I feel the urge to come back too soon.

The sunset! The sunset! All this and heaven too!

You what? What’s that, Penelope? It’s not a sunset at all? It’s a sunrise? A sunrise! Have I been up all night? I haven’t? So this is breakfast? How splendid! Well get on with it, my dear, and get me that martini.

1393. Nothing to get

A group of friends were having a few drinks. There’s nothing like a few drinks to invigorate a conversation. They got to telling jokes.

Benjamin told a joke.

“There were three bears: Father Bear, Mother Bear, and Baby Bear. They went on a skiing trip. Father Bear came down the hill on skis shouting WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Mother Bear came down the hill on skis shouting WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Baby Bear came down the hill on skis shouting RADIATOR!”

The joke was completely unfunny. In fact, the joke was so unfunny that Bernice became convulsive. She asphyxiated on the joke. She was on the floor laughing so hard that she choked. She had a fit and almost had to be taken to hospital. Harriet didn’t think the joke was funny at all. She just didn’t get that there was nothing to get.

1211. The sun had gone over the yardarm

Abernathy had a few serious New Year resolutions to make. And he made them. He needed to give up the drink – alcohol that is. Every evening he drank too much. That would have to stop.

Then there was smoking. He had to give that up too. It was for the sake of his health and for the sake of his pocket.

What he needed to do was to have new and varied interests. That should take his mind off things. Perhaps he should take up pottery, or herb growing and drying, or fruit tree grafting? Perhaps he could go to night school and study Middle Eastern cooking, or learn how to paint with water colours, or master all the ins and outs of the computer programs he used?

It was five o’clock on New Year’s Day; the sun had gone over the yardarm. Abernathy poured himself a drink and lit a cigarette. Decisions! Decisions! So many options to mull over!

1179. The clink of bottles

Nora heard the clink of bottles hitting each other as her husband walked up the drive having done the grocery shopping. He would first go into the garage before coming into the house, and then when the grocery bags were emptied there wasn’t a bottle in sight.

Nora’s husband had a room at the back of the garage where he kept his model railway. He would spend hours there. He could afford the time once he had retired. Occasionally he would come into the house to use the bathroom, smelling of the breath-disguising odour of peppermint.

He’d always had trouble with drink but now he’d “dried out”. He had given up by sheer will-power, he told everyone. “Just said NO and that was it.” No one other than Nora heard the clink of bottles on the driveway.

In a strange way Nora didn’t mind. The more her husband stayed out of the house the better. That way she could get stuck into her own stash of liquor hidden behind the pots at the back of the kitchen cupboard.

Poem 34: A frightfully PC love song

(The poetic form selected for this month is the Standard Habbie aka Burns Stanza).

Seasonal comparison
Seems to be the thing that’s in:
You’re like a summer’s drink of gin –
At first all pop
But once the alcohol sets in
You’re really hot.

I’ll pour myself another one
And when that’s drunked I think I’m done
And hope we could be in for fun.
You leave? Aw super.
Why go before the night has run?
Party pooper.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.