'In the summertime, when the weather is high, you can stretch right up, and touch the sky' - or didn't somebody else pen those lines first? Well, PLEASE don't have a drink, have a drive. Even the great sideburned scribe Ray Dorset admitted in retrospect that he made a mistake. But get thirsty, by all means, and slake your thirst with a pint or a can of John Smiths Bitter. Sorry if I'm beginning to sound like a television ad, but there we go. You want the facts - well, I've got some of 'em.
<Pause - slurp> Here we go.
John Smith's Bitter goes back over 250 years. It originates from Tadcaster, where it was established in 1758, and tradition has it that whatever shortcomings Yorkshire might have, a lack of beer wasn't one of them. In fact, until then, Tadcaster's greatest claim to fame was that it was close to the site of Townton, England's bloodiest battle, fought on Palm Sunday in 1461 during the Wars of the Roses. No wonder the town would sooner talk beer than battle.
Now it (the beer, not the Wars of the Roses) has gone north, and these days it is part of by Britain's premier brewing group, Scottish Courage. As the advertising says, it's an extremely smooth, creamy pint created from a perfect combination of traditional and modern brewing techniques. Well, only if I was a brewer myself, who knew a thing or two about rough, non-creamy pints (if such things exist), would I take issue with that?
Well-informed opinion has it that the bevvy is served at 8ºC, a mean lean 4ºC cooler than traditional ales, in order to give extra refreshment. Now excuse me, but I don't carry a thermometer round with me when I go into a pub, or even when I get a can out of the fridge. So I'll take that on trust. Life's too short, and I'm prepared to be an anorak about some things in life, but not beer. I'm not a real ale chappie, and if it tastes OK, it tastes OK. And it says on the can 'Serve slightly chilled'. Now put it in the fridge and stop fussing, right?
John Smiths Bitter has evidently stood the test of time. I can think of one or two pretty awful brands that I certainly wouldn't touch again from choice, but this certainly isn't one of them. It's readily available in single 440 ml cans, four-packs, even 12- and 24- packs. Take your pack, in fact. Prices don't necessarily mean much, but throughout most of the country, expect to pay around £1.85 for a pint in the pub. Taking a swift look at the shelves of our local Co-op, a four-pack costs £4.29, and a 12-pack £12.39.
I read somewhere that 15 pints of the stuff are sold in the UK every second during opening hours. Whether that's true or not I don't know, but if it's that popular, it can't be bad. Take it from me (well, not the one I've just started drinking - mind your manners, please), if you like bitter, this stuff slips down your throat a treat. I could go on about classic hop aromas, full-bodied nutty roasted tastes, but that might be going over the top a little. But it smells good, the flavour's good, and believe me, it's pretty refreshing, especially during summer. It's also 4% volume alcohol, and it comes in a rather nicely-designed green can with red and yellow lettering.
Apart from a voucher saying '50p off', what more do you want? Oh, I nearly forgot. I started with a few lines from a song, so let's finish with a few more. Like 'When the winter comes, yeah it's party time, bring your bottle, wear your bright clothes, it'll soon be summertime.' Yes, you can even drink it at Christmas and the new year's eve bash. You can take John Smith to the party any time you like.
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