Brilliant stories . Since I was born in Britain I like my beer warm and hand-pulled from a barrel, not pumped by gas. In Scotland it is called 'Heavy', in England 'Bitter'. If I do drink lager, it has to be bottled as the draught stuuf is generally awful.
As for spirits love Scotch, suprise suprise, Gin & Tonic, Cognac (French only, you will be pleased to hear Moiraine} and good wine, red or white. In my youth I drank like a fish, 20 shorts a night. Luckily I saw sense many years ago, before it became a problem. Amazingly I don't get hangovers, the worst I get is a loss of appetite. However, the worst bender was in Rhodes on holiday after a row with a girlfriend. Went on a severe pub crawl and ended up 20 miles away from my hotel. Another Brit helped me into a cab, which had to make frequent stops so I could be sick. Unfortunately, he picked an army barracks for his last halt, to be fair he had little choice. I grabbed the rails on the gate just as the guard approached me. He shouted at me in Greek, to move away I guess, but foolishly decided to emphasise the point by prodding me in the stomach with his gun barrel. Luckily, the taxi driver intervened and managed to drag me away before I was shot by the guard who was forced to call for help so he change out of his squelchy boots. Haven't drunk ouzo since, in fact the smell of it causes my stomach to churn to this day. I believe the guard feels the same way. Bet he didn't pass boot inspection next day!
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