Priorities

On Saturday night me and Mrs PBBB and our Welsh rellies went to Alexandra Palace for the fireworks.

We'd seen an ad for a German Bierfest in the building itself, and decided to check that out for a couple of hours beforehand.

We were promised authentic German beer, authentic German sausages, and authentic German music. I still have flashbacks to my time at Oktoberfest five years ago, like a Vietnam vet, only in a good way. While there, I realised that it wasn't a celebration of beer per se, but a celebration of communion and friendship that had beer at its heart. For three days we were up on our seats forming conga lines and toasting people we had only just met, and the oompah bands - never something I had previously listened to voluntarily - drove the atmosphere and buzz in each tent as adeptly as any superstar DJ.

It didn't take long to realise that Ally Pally wasn't going to be quite the same.

At least the beer was Paulaner. And I wouldn't have minded the £4 a pint price tag if it hadn't been served in the cheapest possible plastic glasses, with no sign of the characteristic thick, foaming head it should be served with. (If you didn't want decent beer, you could have had Fosters for £3.60). Attractive bar staff served us at our tables, which was good. But the flimsy glasses and their lack of experience meant the only way for them to carry the beer was in cardboard carriers of four pints each. As they walked they tended to swing these, leaving trails of spilt beer in their wake.

The tables and benches were incredibly flimsy and clearly would not have supported anything other than sitting politely.

The 'authentic German food throughout the venue' turned out to be one stall selling Bratwurst and sauerkraut for £6 a pop - or piddling Herta Frankfurters at £3 a go. The other alternatives were overpriced and frankly inedible looking authentic Bavarian pizza, or the authentically Bavarian Fine Burger Co.

The oompah band played none of the big hits from Munich, the tunes that really get the crowd going. They came from Ipswich, and alternated with an authentic Bavarian Irish folk band.

The whole thing was a bit mystifying - why go on about how authentic it's going to be and then not even try?

And why can't the English organise something like Oktoberfest? I caught myself at one point thinking, "Ah, but there's thousands of people here. You could never have proper glassware, proper service, proper food, proper chairs and tables at an event this size. You just wouldn't be able to police it properly and guarantee people's safety". And then I remembered that Oktoberfest does exactly that - this gathering was small compared to any one of the giant tents in Munich, which managed to serve more people better food at better table in proper glasses.

I was feeling decidedly grumpy, pissing off the others with my inability to just accept it for what it was.

And then, we went outside and the sky lit up, and for half an hour cynical middle-aged beer writers and small children alike went "ooh", and "aaah".

And I realised that sometimes - just occasionally - the best thing you can do is shrug and say, "So what? It's only beer."

Sleeping with the enemy

Amid cries of "sell out!" (mostly inside my own head), today sees a long reportage piece by me in the Mail on Sunday's Live! magazine, about the perils of marketing premium lager. It's pretty critical of Stella. (Perhaps it would have been less critical had the brewer agreed to talk to me and accepted the opportunity to put their side across.)

I've justified writing for the Mail to myself in many ways - Live! is the mag for blokes to read in what is a very female-oriented newspaper and doesn't share the main paper's reactionary political agenda. They pay about ten times more than most publications I write for. But the excuse I'm sticking to is this: deep inside a paper I'm usually slagging off for its rabid disapproval of drink and drinkers, I've succeeded in making them print the words:

"Despite reports that Britain is drinking itself to death, in reality alcohol sales in the round are falling faster than at any time since the Forties."

As far as I can tell this is the first time those words have been printed inside a British newspaper (well, in that particular order, anyway). And it's in the Mail - the worst culprit for disinformation about binge drinking.

Dog Jumps Shark*

I hate having to write two consecutive posts about Brew Dog, especially when the first one was a satirical post in which I took the piss out of myself more than anything else.

But last night James Watt ruined my mood for the fireworks with the announcement of his latest wheeze.

Tokyo* has, allegedly, been banned by the Portman Group. But it turns out the complaint that led to this ban came from James himself, in order to show up Portman for how ridiculous they are. James' Tweet explaining this simply said "lessons in marketing", and linked to the blog post about the story.

When Portman announced they were to investigate Brew Dog back in August, Brew Dog fans threw up their hands in horrified outrage. At the time, I said on their blog:

"Careful we don't all go for the wrong targets - if Portman have received a complaint they are obliged to investigate it - they are just doing their job. The substance of the complaint to me seems to be nonsense. If Portman uphold it, that is when to lay into them, because that would be a ridiculous decision. But if they throw it out, it could do loads to help get the right message about craft beers across."

So is now the time to slag off Portman? Well, from our point of view we'll always think they're overreacting a tad. But this morning I'm afraid it's Brew Dog who look like idiots. I wouldn't mind that so much - but I fear their antics have damaged the entire beer industry, and the worst thing is, they couldn't give a shit.

The thing is, Tokyo* hasn't been banned at all, as James claims it has. Portman have not objected to the beer; they've objected to some inflammatory wording on the label - wording it now seems was written with the sole intention of winding up the Portman Group in the first place, given the only person who has complained about it was the person who wrote it.

I could go on here to point out that we have to have regulatory bodies overseeing alcohol promotion, that every market in the world has such regulatory bodies, and that by international standards ours is not that bad. I could explain that we need such regulation in order to stop fly-by-night small businesses - usually hawking nasty spirits - from packaging their gutrot in a way that overtly appeals to children, or links drunkenness with sexual success.

I could explain that the alternative to bodies like the Portman Group is direct government regulation. I could point out that this would be much harsher than what we currently have, that there are lots of floating voters who don't like seeing drunk people in their nice middle class town centres, and that the Tory government-in-waiting - never known for their relaxed attitudes to people enjoying themselves - are murmuring about aggressively tightening restrictions on any beer over 5%, and that if they had direct control over alcohol regulation most of Brew Dog's beers, as well as 90% of the speciality beers we love, could actually become illegal.

I could point out that this stunt not only damages the credibility of the Portman Group - its avowed intention - but also gives perfect fuel to those who believe the alcohol industry cannot be trusted and needs to be more tightly controlled.

But there's no point. Because BrewDog James already knows and understands this perfectly, and he doesn't care.

James loves the Portman Group. They are central to his marketing strategy. This is how he promotes the Brew Dog name and gets column inches. The fact that he refers to the blog post as "lessons in marketing" tells us all we need to know about the real reason for this stunt, whatever mealy-mouthed justification is trotted out on the Brew Dog blog over the weekend. This is about self-promotion. It does nothing to further the debate about great craft beer. It does no service to drinkers and Brew Dog fans, who were as duped by this as anyone else.

I've worked in marketing and consultancy for 18 years, most of that in booze. And in that time I've met a lot of talented, headstrong 26 year-olds who think they know everything, who think they can stick it to the man and usher in a new wave of cool. Every single one of them falls flat on their arse, usually with wider damaging consequences. I know, because I was one.

"Lessons in marketing"? So this is how we should all behave, is it?

The craft beer industry needs gifted brewers like Martin Dickie. And it needs edgy, iconoclastic brands like Brew Dog. It needs conventions to be challenged, and it needs fresh ideas. But it needs schoolboy pranks like this one like it needs a hole in the head. There's no place in the craft beer world for someone who seeks publicity by winding up regulatory bodies just for the sake of it, sending an early Christmas present to neo-prohibitionist Op-Ed writers in the process.

What angers me the most is that even by writing this, I'm playing into James' strategy. It's what he wants. So let me state my opinion very clearly:

Brew Dog: either grow up, or get out.

My Equity for Punks prospectus has been refiled from 'to do' to 'recycling'.

*If you don't know, 'jumping the shark' is a phrase from the TV industry that refers to the episode when popular comedy Happy Days finally lost it and ran out of ideas, symbolised by Fonzie jumping over a shark on water skis.

The biggest thing in beer. Ever.

A few days ago, I figured out how to include the Wikio rankings badge on my blog, up there top-right. As I was number one, I was quite pleased with the result. I enjoyed looking at it.

But only days later, I’m staring at a big fat number two. The Brew Dog Blog has overtaken me to become Britain’s most influential beer or wine blog. I wish I’d never suggested to Wikio that they include them, now.

I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. I want my top spot back. But how?

I’ve been giving this some thought, and the answer is obvious.

Brew Dog are experts at generating publicity, and this last month has seen their most ambitious scheme yet. They promised us they were going to change the world, trailed it weeks in advance. And while Equity for Punks may not have been the miracle it promised to be, it generated endless discussion online, with countless links to the Brew Dog blog, where it was hotly debated. That’s surely the reason Brew Dog succeeded on overtaking me.

Well, two can play at that game.

Soon – at a date I’ll think of in a minute – I’m going to announce something that’s better than changing the world forever.

It will make changing the world forever look like changing your position slightly in a leather armchair to make yourself more comfortable, emitting a slight farting sound as you do so.

What I am going to announce won’t just change the world. It will change the very laws of the universe.

Time will run backwards.

The speed of light will slow.

Light itself will become liquid.

Gravity will reverse.

Dinosaurs shall walk the earth once more.

Base metals shall turn into gold.

You will believe a man can fly.

Yea, New Order shall reform and even rediscover the ability to write a decent tune.

Just you wait and see. I’m not kidding. I’m not exaggerating. (OK, maybe I am just a little with the New Order bit.) What I am about to announce – at 2am on 25^th December, that’ll do – will rock the foundations of existence to their very core.

In fact it’s so incredible, it can’t be held back. I can’t stop myself. I’m going to announce it right now. Right here.

Brace yourself.

What Brew Dog don’t understand is that Punk is now really old. It was 33 years ago, guys! Sid Vicious is dead. John Lydon is advertising butter on TV. Sham 69 are… well, I’m not sure what Sham 69 are doing. But equity for punks? That’s equity for blokes in their fifties with slightly waxy pallor after too many years hard living, who now mainly drink mineral water. Lame!

Equity for Punks is also divisive – not everyone likes punk rock. It’s really noisy! They’re shouting, not singing. You can hardly hear the words.

So here’s my universe changing idea:

Equity For People With Interesting And Varied Mixes On Their iPods That Might Contain Some Punk And Alternative Stuff But There’s Probably A Bit Of Coldplay On There Too If You’re Honest.

EFPWIAVMOTiTMCSPAASBTPABOCOTTIYH for short.

Or maybe just Equ-i-Pod, thinking about it.

Equ-i-pod gives you the chance to become part of Pete Brown’s Beer Blog. That’s right: I’m offering shares in what is currently – according to the judges of last year’s beer writers’ awards and now Wikio – Britain’s second-best beer blog.

Equ-i-PodBlog then.

No, Equ-i-PodBlog^TM.

That’s more like it.

Equ-i-PodBlog^TM will give you a 0.01% share in Pete Brown’s Beer Blog. As a shareholder, you’ll be able to leave comments on my posts – literally becoming part of the blog itself! You can even make suggestions for things you’d like me to write about if you like.

Cynics may argue that because Pete Brown’s Beer Blog has no monetary value whatsoever then your shares are worthless. But don’t listen to them. That’s not what it’s really about. It’s more about being part of something exciting that’s got something to do with beer.

And anyway, that’s not all you get. I’m also offering a lifetime discount on purchases of my books (conditional on you buying them through Amazon – it’s currently 40% off Hops & Glory I think).

So:

Equ-i-PodBlog^TM is more up-to-date and inclusive than Equity for Punks.

Equ-i-PodBlog^TM gives you something even better than a genuine stake in an exciting, iconoclastic and rapidly expanding brewery.

And thirdly, Equ-i-PodBlog^TM is way, way cheaper than what Brew Dog are doing. I’m not going to ask you for £230 a share. I’m not going to ask you for £100 a share. I’m not even going to ask you for £50 a share. A tenner. Oh go on then, a fiver. A crisp fiver, and tell you what, I’ll give you three shares. You can’t say fairer than that. I’m robbing myself blind here.

I’ll be having a pint to launch it at the Rake, probably, some time over the weekend.

Tell your friends. Link to my blog by any means possible. Have a heated debate in the comments section. Twitter as if your life depended on it. Drive more traffic to my blog. Because now, it’s your blog too.

And James and Martin – enjoy the view from up there at number one. Enjoy it while you still can, boys.

Hops and Glory in the US

People are still asking me about a US release and I promise I'm still working to try and make that happen.

In the meantime, my Google alert this morning notified me that the book is available here from Abebooks in the States at a decent price.

Oh, for fuck's sake

From an article in today's Sunday Times:

"A forthcoming audio adaptation of Doctor Who dropped a reference to a character being drunk, partly because it could encourage children to hit the bottle. The character was instead described as being merry and cheerful."

From yesterday's Daily Mail (thanks Jeff Pickthall):

"Deals like M&S food and wine for two 'fuelling middle class alcohol abuse'."

Can the least person leaving the planet please turn out the lights?

Barnsley man fails in quest to revolutionise pub, but gets credit anyway

Just writing a feature about the innovation that's happening in cask ale dispense right now, with new hand pumps from Greene King, Bombardier, Black Sheep and others. And I just found out something that absolutely delights me.

The invention of the beer engine or handpump is commonly credited to one Joseph Bramah, a hydraulic engineer and locksmith who invented the hydraulic press, a decent toilet, a money printing press, and lots of other stuff.

On 31st October 1797 he successfully gained a patent for a manually operated beer-pump which he believed would have tremendous advantages for "the masters of families and publicans'.

Because there's no previous patent, he is cited everywhere as the inventor of the modern beer engine. But the truth is that his device bore no resemblance to the modern (i.e. traditional) hand pump, and never dispensed a single pint of beer. Whereas hand pumps depend on pressure from the beer engine on the bar to create a vacuum that draws the beer up the line for the cask, Bramah's sketches show a system of pistons inside casks, weighted with heavy bags of sand. The piston pushes the beer down inside the cask, through an opening in the bottom, and up the pipe to a simple tap at the bar.

There were two impracticalities here: one, pub cellars didn't have the height to set up the pulleys and weights required. Two, we all know what beer casks look like. They have curved sides - making them utterly useless for any kind of internal piston action. The publican would have had to transfer beer upon delivery into special containers the piston could work with, which would have been far more work than just getting the pot boy to run down to the cellar and dispense the beer manually, which is what the system was meant to replace.

The story is confusing because the beer engine that actually worked was in widespread use just a few years after Bramah registered his patent. But whoever came up with the successful idea, there is no record of them - and it wasn't Bramah.

Anyway, that's all fine. But the thing that caught my eye is that while Bramah may have been a rubbish beer inventor, he was from t'Tarn! Joseph Bramah was born in Stainborough Lane Farm in Wentworth, South Yorkshire, just outside Barnsley. Of course, Wentworth is the wrong side of Barnsley - it's out towards Rawmarsh. He may have been within walking distance of Jump, home of Percy Turner's legendary pork pies, but south of Barnsley is still south of Barnsley. Anyway, in 1783 he made up for the error of his birth by going on to marry Mary Lawton, who came from Mapplewell - the village I grew up in!

He probably had a pint in the Talbot. He probably met Mary while going round tarn on a Friday night, maybe in Ye Walkeabout.

Anyway, the couple soon moved down south, to That London.

Well, they had to. If you tried being an inventor in Barnsley they'd just laugh at you and say "Thee and thi fancy hydraulics. Backbreaking labour in the white heat of the world's first industrial revolution, man and machine chained together as one not good enough for thee and thi posh mates, is it?"

Two centuries later, I feel a certain bond with this man from Barnsley who tried to change the face of beer, failed, but is still remembered for something he didn't actually do.

Detail on Bramah's rubbish beer pump and the emergence of one that worked are from Peter Mathias' excellent Brewing History in England 1700-1830. A bible to any beer historian since 1959.