Thursday February 8 - I Don't Drink Therefore I Am (A Tosser)

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been one month, seven days and 18 hours since my last drink.

Have you ever said something awful? So awful that even a fleeting memory causes your head to shake involuntarily and your shoulders to hunch up in a vain bid to erase it?

I did last night. Offered a glass of champagne by someone I had just met, I gave the following response: "No thanks. I don't drink."

No thanks. I don't drink.

If there is a more prissy phrase in the English language, I'm yet to hear it. How to tell the world - in just five short syllables - that you are both party-pooping and judgemental.

There were so many things I could have said - without lying - which would have been absolutely fine.

"No thanks, I'm not drinking tonight."
"No thanks, I'm having a few weeks off the booze."
"No thanks, I'm deliberately torturing myself for a year in order to write an attention-seeking blog."

But oh no. Not me. I prefer to sound like the class spod. The Virgin King. The starchy love child of Hyacinth Bucket and Mr Bronson.

No thanks. I don't drink.

Nyeh nyeh. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.

I'm scared of opening my mouth, now. I don't know what else is lurking inside there, ready to leap out.

Do you mind if we take things slowly?

I think that behaviour is kinda inappropriate.

Let's just hug for a while.

What would Jesus do?

Maybe I should get a gimp gag or have my jaw wired shut until the trust is re-built.

The problem, of course, is not refusing the alcohol but the implicit judgement in the phrase. The actual conversation may go:
"Would you like a glass of champagne?"
"No thanks. I don't drink."
"Oh really? Would you like a soft drink instead?"
"Yes, that would be lovely."

But the implied conversation is really:

"Would you like a glass of champagne?"
"No. I'm a reptilian control freak and I find your need to find oblivion in alcohol both socially and morally repugnant. Every night I pray for the good Lord to rain down fire upon people like you until only the pure and righteous walk the earth."
"Oh really? Would you like a soft drink instead?"
"Yes, that would be lovely."

Well, you've got to remember your manners.

To add insult to injury, the incident, henceforth known as NothanksIdontdrink-gate, took place at a party thrown to celebrate 12 years of Rawhide - a comedy club in Liverpool. The man who offered me the champagne was Rawhide founder Kevin Fearon.
So, in a nutshell, I acted like a stroppy puritan in front of a man whose business is fun and laughter. Great.

I did order a J2O to redress the balance (well, they are very sugary) but I suspect the damage was done.

NothanksIdontdrink-Gate aside, I had a good night and saw six comedians, ranging from the side-splittingly brilliant all the way down to the utterly Lenny Henry.

Staying off the booze was relatively simple, although it was interesting to see it through sober eyes for a change though. Just one observation for now, as I've gone on long enough. Did you always assume that comedy clubs put the best turn on last? Me too. Turns out we were just more pissed towards the end.

Just thought you should know.