Four beer styles

One series of mega books. Yes, my often-announced, not very well defined Mega Book Series is finally hitting the shops. (If you count an online self-publishing site as a shop.)

I've thrown around a few titles in the last months. But not this one. Volume I of the Mega Book Series, which will cover all four British beer styles. (Unless Martyn Cornell can persuade me there are only three.) What else could I begin the series with, other than Britain's most noble and venerable style: Porter!.

620 pages of non-stop fun. That's two Jeffrey Archer novels. Or Porter!, the longest book ever written about Britain's oldest style. In detail that will send even the most seasoned archivist into a coma, I explore the beer that made London famous. For beer. Table after table after table. Poor jokes, a bit of pretension, quite a few typos and the old insult thrown at style nazis.

And recipes. More than 100. I lost count. Stacks of the bloody things. From 1804 to 1962. All but a handful, I haven't published before.

It's a doorstep of a book. You could always use it to knock a burglar unconscious. And what better present for a loved one? Perhaps for that special woman in your life*.

Buy "Porter!" now. You won't regret it. Well, perhaps not immediately. When the credit card bill arrives.



Buy "Porter!" now.



Buy "Porter!" now.


Shouting. What better way to sell?





* I assume the vast majority of my readers are male. I apologise to any female readers. And homosexuals. I should have just added man to that sentence, shouldn't I?

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All those things

that didn't make it. Blog-wise.

Munich - wood with Mike.
Liverpool - legs that won't work.
Stuttgart - wake for a world-beater.
Jersey - liberation.
Liverpool - flying pigs.
Manchester - tracks to nowhere.
Philadelphia - not grey but golden.
Philadelphia - what cost Triumph?
Washington - CD
New York - scraping sky in the basement.

New York - wobble time.

Hard rain, man, hard rain.

Just as well I noted down all those titles. No way I would have been able to remember them. Now I just need to recall what the hell they are about. Hang on. An idea is forming. Start with the title and just make the rest up. Yes. Euwhatsit.

"Bitter, Pint." Lucas says that. A quote of some sort. My bitterness comes in quarts.

I need to be stout. Not meek. Nor sweet. Or getting into a lather. I'm not lazy, but I want someone to carry my bag. Am I so regal?


Block it with stars.

No dad you just write:

F***ing  - that's what's resonsible for the food on our tables.

beer engine photo

For reasons I can't be bothered to explain, I need a photograph. A photo of a set of four beer engines.

Something like this:

It needs to be dead on straight. Just like my little drawing above.

There will be some sort of prize for the right photo.

I would take it myself, but, where the hell can you find a set of four handpumps in Amsterdam?

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