18 Feb 2010

Beer? Motorway? Golf Buggy? Welshman?

Last Saturday Andy Powell, Welsh international, celebrated his team's win by having a few beers. Obviously this would be the case for any half decent Rugby team. Also it is fairly true that these celebratory drinks can - at times - spiral out of hand.

We call them 'Beerventures'.

In Andy Powell's case his beerventure ended up with him being arrested on the M4 motorway driving a golf buggy absolutely pissed out of his taffy skull. What sequence of events led up to this point may well never be known (well, until he cynically produces an autobiography). The point is that in a moment of pure brilliance (or stupidity) Powell took the step from mindless drunken behaviour to beerventure.

You may well ask 'what constitutes a beerventure and how do I know I've had one?' Well fear not dear reader. I have produced a guide.

The Duke Fandango Guide to BEERVENTURES!

Every now and then whilst drinking, a number of complex factors balance each other out to create the optimum conditions for beerventures. This can be expressed using the equation:

Intoxication [times] Mates Egging You On [divided by] Basic Motor Skills = Beerventure.

Put simply you need to have the requisite amount of alcohol coursing through your body to completely remove your usual inhibitions and a group of mates yelling 'go on, it'll be fucking funny' whilst still retaining the ability to coordinate your limbs to operate things like ticket machines, steam trains, gates to fields, tin openers etc.

Beerventures usually happen in a state of semi-consciousness. When you wake up the next day you will most likely not remember much about it. There will however, be a number of clues to help you piece together what happened:

You wake up in a field.

You wake up in a field in another county.

You wake up in a field in Poland.

You wake up in a field in Poland with a Swastika tattooed on your forehead, an Ox heart in one hand and your trousers around your ankles.

You wake up in your bed...which is in a field.

You wake up on a cargo ship bound for the Philippines and everyone starts referring to you as Manuel.

You wake up on a roundabout stark-bollock-naked. On the A3. At around nine AM.

You wake up in what you assume to be a prison cell but through your blurry vision you notice the chains on the walls and the 25 inch pink dildo cemented to the floor. There is the strong smell of baby oil.

You wake up in hospital covered in jam and bee stings.

Once you shake yourself out of your alcohol induced catatonic state there are a series of steps you need to take to get your shit together.

Step 1: Finding out what happened.

Firstly check your phone. You may have texts/missed calls from your friends - this may give you a clue (especially if it says "Dude! Can't believe you stole that horse and rode it all the way to Exeter" or "You utter twat! Why did you sleep with my Gran/Sister/Girlfriend/Mum/Cuddly Toy I've had since childhood?") Also check the pictures. If you have a camera phone you may have photographic evidence of what happened. If these involve you stapling your nut sack to a giraffe then best get rid of them.

Step 2: Finding out where you are.

If the roadsigns are in a different language then you have had a monumental beerventure. Ask a local for directions to the nearest port. You will need to be wary of approaching just anyone as your beerventure could be the starting point for a small-scale diplomatic dispute. It is essential that you complete step 1 before any interactions with other people. If you jump headlong into conversation you could be asking someone for help whose fence you jumped last night, landed on their dog house and inadvertently killed 'Scruffles' the rare breed show dog that was the family's only source of income in these harsh economic times. They will probably want to kill you; you bastard.

Step 3: Getting Home.

You may be lucky and hitch a lift with a trucker. If this is the case you will only have to perform one act of oral sex. Be thankful that you can get that post-drinking taste out of your mouth. If not you may have to order a taxi/find a bus stop/buy a aeroplane ticket (depending on the extent of your beerventure).

Once you've done the above you will be able to look back in years to come and laugh about the events.

Unless you get arrested and sent to gaol. If this happens then you'll look back on your beerventure as the point your life started its downward spiral.

But when you decide to ride that golf buggy up on one of the nation's major roads you can say with pride in your heart and vodka in your stomach "I too am on a beerventure and I'm fucking a grapefruit!"

Andy Powell, you sir, are a legend.


  1. My friend once went out in Glasgow, and woke up the next morning in Edinburgh airport, dressed as a sailor. True story, and one that needs to be heard.

  2. oh beereventures.. hilarious.

    like the new blog look. when are you leaving for china?