rugby beer

As part of his observational stand-up Peter Kay often talks about his old man’s reaction (as in dad’s, not getting a stiffie) to the suggestion of anything new – “garlic…..bread?,… I mean…garlic bread?” Well guys, I think I have another one for his next tour –

I know – what the f**k is the point of a beer cocktail? – except maybe to bugger up the taste! Rugby players drink beer – that’s it – they might occasionally have a coffee if it’s before about half ten (in the morning, obviously). The pros probably have to force down energy drinks and isotonics before they get on it – but not us mere mortals.


So mostly it’s Nescafe – served black or with half a teaspoon of skimmed if they are three-quarters (rugby position not half pissed) – they do not drink frothy stuff laced with full fat milk, fruit flavouring, mint bits or with sprinkles of bleeding chocolate droppings on the top. They certainly wouldn’t be seen dead in a poncy place with a pseudo west coast or spick name or pay four quid for something with a stupid name.

The only time a rugby player willingly chugs a beer adulterated by anything else is when he’s been unfortunate enough to have lost a round playing  ‘Jacks’ (for more info see posts entitled ‘Drinking games and ‘More Drinking Games’). When this occurs it is entirely acceptable for him to be given a concoction that is likely to react violently with the contents of his stomach. This is particularly entertaining if he’s just had a madras down the ‘Curry Queen’.

The object of the game is to target the loser with drink combinations that you know will give him the most discomfort and provide you with the best laugh – preferably you should be able to witness the liquid and bits of curry re-emerging for inspection (even though there were no carrots in the dish).  My own bêtes noires were Guinness and tomato juice, advocaat and lager and whiskey with just about anything – or to be fair even on its own.


These unpleasant mixes probably still would be my downfall if I was ever stupid enough to play Jacks again – so quite likely then! The smart blokes (inevitably the backs) sought to keep their particular ‘enfants terribles’ (impressed eh? – no, I thought not) drinks a secret from everyone – often pretending that they just hated a ‘gin & tonic’. Unfortunately both Harro and Bush were all too aware of just how amusing it was to see me attempt to down anything mixed with tomato juice.

Right enough for today – I’m off to get ready with a can or two for the England v Canada game in the WWC – and it certainly won’t be with a f*****g beer cocktail! Go girls!