So how did all this get started?
Why do we sit round drinking?
I'm gonna blame it on elephants
by PHILIP WHITE
I’ve been having a recurring dream. I’m sitting in the pastis bar on edge of the Rhône at Tournon, drinking the Ricard 51. Which number is an indicator of its alcohols. My companion is Lord Twining, noticeable for his full silver beard. We have been at it a long time. He drinks the candle and sets fire to his face.
I was heartbroken to discover that the purist bastards at National Geographic calculated that it would take nearly two litres of pure ethanol to get a proper pachyderm tipsy, in which case it would take 27 liters of marula juice at seven per cent alcohol to come up with that much goonbag. They reckon an elephant would therefore have to guts at least 1,400 rotten boozy fruits to get shickered, which they think was below the style of your average tasteful elephant, who would of course prefer the fresher fruit.
Or on that dragon boat of lads that set out from Bergen, Norway, to row to Shetland, missed it their vodka haze, and discovered America halfway through their hangover. Vinland, see. Rootstocks for 800 years later, when phylloxera ate Europe and the only way you could get vines to grow was to graft them onto American rootstocks.