I develop a sense of profound existential disappointment when someone arranges to meet me in a pub and there, through the door, I see the brightly lit Fosters pump or some other cooking lager. But no worries, they also have Doom Bar or Greene King IPA. There will be people drinking cider out of glasses filled with ice. It's the sort of place that, when I finally pitch up in Hell, Finestre – the Demon of Such Things – will arrange to meet me each lunchtime. She'll probably have already bought a round.
I can, on the other hand, predict the pub's closure and conversion into contemporary 'luxurious' fuck hutches to the millisecond.
I drank the Cuvee and it's as nice I remember (we went to the release night at Bottleshop). I saved the Human and Un-Human Cannonballs to share with my lilac wife as the cans are (a) big and (b) Un-Human Cannonball rocks up at 12% boozahol.
Northern Monk do a lot of collaborations, all their patrons' project beers have been quite literally awesome sauce. And the can artwork is fantastic. I also like the Magic Rock can design with all the little creatures. I'm going to have to make an opportunity the next I'm up north to visit their tap rooms.