I read lots of complaints about boring beer. Especially in regard to the GBBF. But what is boring beer?
Of course, it's a very subjective thing, boredom. What bores the pants, jacket, scarf, tie, shirt, hat, underwear, shoes, toupee, incontinence pads and socks off me might set your heart racing like a speed freak in a ferrari. For some, boring beer is anything you can get hold of easily. Stuff you don't have to sell your children into slavery to pay for, travel to Timbuktu to fetch or sleep on a pavement three months queueing for.
My perspective is different. I happily drank little but Tetley's Mild for almost for seven years. Living in Leeds, finding a pub without it was a challenge. Now I rarely stray from the holy trinity of St. Bernardus 6, 8 and 12 when drinking at home. Beers I really like never get dull.
If neither ubiquity nor ease of purchase set me yawning, what does? That's trickier to put my finger on. Lack of subtlety? Perhaps. But that's not quite it . . .
I need to have a think.
Shit. That was the last bottle of Abt.
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