Fifty Shades Of IPA

Apparently, today is IPA Day. Now, you know I'm not one for the fetishisation of style. And IPA is for life, not just for August. Nevertheless, after exposing last year's IPA lies, I felt it was only fair to share these titbits I found on the interweb. From, uh, somewhere. Probably whatever the electronic equivalent is for the back of the bike sheds.


Fifty Shades Of IPA: work in progress

After a couple of hours, I'd really developed a taste for this. But I knew I had to go soon. I looked the hunky barman up and down and said, "Quick! Fill my growler!"

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On my desk was a parcel. Had he sent me something? I'd never had anything come in a Jiffy before. Inside was a blindfold and so I knew. Tonight would be the night I had longed and ached for. He was going give me a blind tasting.

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"Nearly there..  hold out your tongue!" He moaned softly as the cork popped. I felt it on my tongue; bitter, sticky, exciting. But I still thought it was a waste of Meantime IPA to be opened like that.

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"Prepare to be hurt like never before", I said. And then stood in front of him and drank his last bottle of Pliny The Elder.

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He said "would you like me to hold an ice cube in my mouth before we start? I was shocked; lowering the temperature of the beer in such dramatic fashion was bound to ruin his tasting experience.

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I'd never seen such a box of joy. How far will we go? He leant closer and whispered in my ear: "Maybe to 100 IBUs. Maybe more".

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"We need an escape word", I said. "Something we'd never say, even in the heat of passion". He looked my square in the eye and said: "Budweiser".

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I was feeling funky in my fol-de-ra-ha-ha-ha department. I wanted to get my hands on his Great River Big Cock. But first, I wanted to be punished! So he gave me a bottle of Greene King IPA and locked me in the toilet.

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"Put on this all-in-one rubber suit", he said. My fantasy was about to come true. He was going to let me scrub out the copper.

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He looked at my warily. "Are you sure you want it"? he said. "Oh yes," I breathed, "just get it out and show it to me". I trembled at its size. I'd never seen a receipt from beermerchants that was so huge.

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"Harder than that!" I screamed. "Harder! HARDER!". He concentrated. "OK... how much Simcoe do you need to brew a 75 IBU beer in a five-gallon batch, assuming an alpha-acid content of 14%?"

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I was tired. I felt skunky and I wanted to go home. "Not tonight," he snapped. "You're coming round my place to fondle my bomber".

"You.. arrogant bastard!"

"No," he said. "Ruination".

"Go on then", I said. "But I need to for a wee first. I've been getting Jaipured all day".

4 comments:

  1. I thought Pete Brown was the best writer of books on IPA and after reading this...... he still is.
    However it was extremely funny!

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  2. Hmmmm baby, you make me so hoppy, I drink you long time, suppy-suppy??

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  3. Very good :-)
    I particularly liked ""Prepare to be hurt like never before", I said. And then stood in front of him and drank his last bottle of Pliny The Elder."
    As a not-quite-reformed beer hoarder, I can imagine the pain!

    ReplyDelete