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Readers will notice something different about this blog: it is now carrying advertising.

There’s a very good reason for this change in policy – money. I’d like to make some, as recompense for the very considerable amount of time I have spent amassing probably three quarters of a million words on this site. I certainly won’t be making a lot: it may not even amount to four figures a year. But I’ve been writing this blog for 11 years, and while I managed to get a book published in 2015 that was based on some 28 or so of the better historical posts, the sums that book, Strange Tales of Ale, brought in were certainly pretty nonsensical when set against the time taken to research and write those posts (and that includes the prize money for winning Book of the Year at the Guild of British Beer Writer awards). Even some money is better by far than a poke with a sharp stick.

Other bloggers have gone for setting up Patreon accounts: I never fancied that, because I don’t post to this blog that frequently and I didn’t want to ask people to give money for something that might, as has happened very recently, have a gap of several months between posts. Similarly, while some beer bloggers have signed sponsorship deals, I didn;t want to feel beholden to a sponsor – and in addition, I like to feel I can be rude about anyone. Being sponsored is a restriction on that liberty.

In the end I was approached by the company that is arranging the sale of the ads that will be appearing on this blog, and I could think of no good reasons to turn down the offer. The agreement I have allows me to block individual advertisers, and even whole sectors, if I want to.

Please comment below on any issues you feel arise from this decision: if you feel there are too many ads, they are too intrusive and/or they don’t belong on what is meant to be an independent platform for one man’s rantings and musings, say so, and if at any time you feel advertisers are appearing who clash with the values you believe the Zythophile blog stands for, or should stand for, do let me know.

Martyn Cornell

Brewer accused of getting excise men drunk in order to avoid paying tax

A few days since, two Excise Officers came to Mr Harwood’s Brew-house near Shoreditch to Gage the Liquors, but instead thereof, finding several of his Men drinking hard therein, sate down with them, and tipled so heartily with them, as to be thoroughly fudled. In the meantime the Surveyor came, and finding a Guile of Beer not set down in their Accounts, made a Report to the Commissioners, that Mr Harwood had caused his Men to make their Officers drunk, in Order to defraud the King of his Duties; So that a Tryal is likely to ensue thereupon, which may be very expensive to Mr Harwood, and be Instructive to others of the same Occupation.

Parker’s London News, or the Impartial Intelligencer, Friday September 4 1724, p5

Isn’t that a wonderful story? I found it (serendipity is marvellous) while looking for something else entirely. Unfortunately, as yet, I’ve been unable to discover any follow-up stories, so I don’t know if Harwood was actually taken to court for getting the revenue officers drunk, and if so, what happened to him. Updates may follow …

Beer history geeks will recognise Mr Harwood, brewer of Shoreditch, East London as Ralph of that ilk, the man identified, incorrectly, by John Feltham in 1802 as the supposed inventor of porter “about the year 1722” (ie two years before the adventures detailed above) as a replacement for a mixed drink called three-threads. It’s a story that went round the world.  As early as 1812, German beer lovers were being told that ‘Der Brauer Harwood brauete den ersten Porter.’ In fact Ralph did nothing of the sort, and porter wasn’t developed to replace three-threads … but you knew that.

Still, that’s not as mangled as something you can still find on dozens of different sites all over the interwebs, which seems to be sourced from a book written for American home-brewers in the late 1990s:

Porter was the first commercially brewed beer. It was named for the train porters who were its original servers and consumers , and became hugely popular in 18th & 19th century Britain.

Train porters in the 18th century …  and nobody was brewing commercially before then … sometimes I wonder why people like me and Ron Pattinson even bother.

Neoprohibitionist lies exposed in one simple statistic

Where does the UK stand in the league table for consumption of alcohol per head? You’re probably saying to yourself something like, “oooh, we must be pretty high up – not as much as the Czechs, surely, they’re notorious for knocking back the pilsner, and I bet the Poles still drink lots of vodka, and doesn’t little Luxembourg have some weirdly high consumption per head figure because all its neighbours pop across the border to buy cheap booze? So, I dunno, fourth?”

A cartoon from 1920, when the American prohibitionist campaigner William ‘Pussyfoot’ Johnson was  in Britain pushing the extreme temperance line

If you’ve caught any of the neoprohibitionist nonsense from organisations such as the Institute for Alcohol Studies – descended directly from the International Order of Good Templars, a campaigning temperance group founded in the 1850s – and the Alcohol Health Alliance, both currently crowing because they have managed to persuade the Scots to adopt minimum unit pricing of alcohol, and both pushing hard to have the same policy adopted in England and Wales, then you’ve probably subconsciously absorbed the idea that here in this green and sceptical isle we drink lots and lots, enough to have a problem about it, and certainly more than most others.

In fact, on average, we don’t. And in fact, on average, the UK comes 25th out of a list of 27 European countries for alcohol consumption per head (*). Third from bottom. Not “qualifying for the Champions League” levels at all – “relegation into the Championship” levels. Of the other nine leading economies in the world, only three – China, Japan and India – drink less alcohol per head than the UK does. The Germans drink more than 40 per cent more alcohol per head than we do. The French drink 24 per cent more. Even the United States drinks slightly more, at 7.1 litres of pure alcohol equivalent per head, against the UK’s 7 litres (all 2015 figures).

Other statistics also show that the UK today is a relatively sober nation. Overall alcohol consumption is 9 per cent down on 2001. Convictions for drunkenness are barely a third of the level they were even in the Second World War, when beer was weak, wine and spirits unavailable and your local pub, if it hadn’t been bombed to bits, was shut because of rationing; and only a tenth of what they were in 1973, when we all had long hair and loon pants and a pint cost 15p (though current statistics have probably been affected by the rise in fixed penalty notices). The number of positive breath tests has dropped two thirds since 1980, and more than halved since 2000. The percentage of 11 to 15-year-olds who have ever had an alcoholic drink is down by more than a third since 2001, and the percentage of 11 to 15-year-olds who had an alcoholic drink “in the last week” had plunged by more than two thirds.

None of this matters to the wowsers of the Institute for Alcohol Studies and the Alcohol Health Alliance, however. They point to the fact that some people abuse alcohol, and they have convinced themselves that the answer to that is the nonsensical “whole-population model”, which claims that if you lower total alcohol consumption, then “problematic” alcohol consumption will fall as well. Unfortunately, there is absolutely no evidence to show this is true.

What is more, the figures from the Sheffield Alcohol Pricing Model, which was put together by academics at the University of Sheffield, and has been used to justify the introduction of minimum unit pricing, look instinctively ridiculous and untenable: the model claims that a minimum price of 50p per unit of alcohol (a unit being 10ml/8gm of pure C2H5OH) would result in a “harmful” drinker, defined as someone who drinks 50 units a week (equivalent to just under three pints of medium-strength beer a day) cutting back consumption by half a pint a day, or increasing their spending by £2.88 a week. That’s less than the price of two corner-shop sandwiches: some deterrent.

The Institute for Alcohol Studies and the Alcohol Health Alliance, of course, say it’s not just about the heavy drinkers, that minimum unit pricing will also make the moderate drinker cut back, by two thirds of a unit for men and half a unit for women, per week. That’s cutting back by a fifth of a standard glass of red wine for women, and just over a quarter of a glass of wine for men. Per week. This, they claim, will “slash” the occurrence of high blood pressure, diabetes and heart disease.

Paul Chase, in his excellent (though badly titled) book Culture Wars and Moral Panic: The Story of Alcohol and Society, sums it up very well:

“This is really all about symbolism and control. Once government becomes the ‘price-giver’ for the licensed trade, the image of alcohol as ‘no ordinary product’, and as something dangerous that we all need protecting from, becomes official policy. The Medical Temperance view of alcohol is in the ascendance. Their view chimes with government – not least because it gives [governments] a health-concern smokescreen behind which they can introduce what is nothing more than a sin tax.”

Minimum unit pricing is apparently now under consideration for England. If you want to stop this nannying and pointless nonsense, support Drinkers’ Voice, follow it on Twitter, and help campaign to be able to enjoy the pleasures of alcohol, moderately and sensibly.

(*) BBPA Statistical Handbook 2017, p95