Alan and Max have just published a book. A rather unusual fictionalised dialogue about beer.
It's called "The Unbearable nonsense of Craft Beer". I would tell you more about it, but I'm in a rather odd situation. Because I appear in the book. A fictional version of me.
It's a weird feeling. I guess how Kinky Friedman's mates feel. I'm still trying to get my head around there being the real me, sat here typing a blog post and the other abstract me, stuck between the pages of a book.
Would I really shout those things? I don't know. Maybe virtual me is shoutier. I suppose I find out when we meet in Prague later this year. I hope he doesn't thump me. He seems wild.
Stout, stouter… - I’ve been buying some strong stouts and tasting them – well, drinking them, let’s be honest – in the hope of answering the two eternal questions about stro...
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