Once upon a time (c2005), on arriving at the inlaws after a long and arduous train journey, we requested a refreshing beery beverage. Oh, I think we have some in the garage says the mother-in-law. Some minutes later she appears with two cans of Mansfield Bitter. Now I grew up in a town in which the pubs either stocked Mansfield or Kimberley, and I can vouch for the fact that both taste like canal water. The only real difference was that Kimberley probably was canal water. But still, it's beer, and canned nostalgia at that. So I took a big swig.
Pffffffffffftttttttttttttttttttttt!
Now I never remembered it tasting that bad. Eventually having recovered I looked at the best-before date on the bottom of the, come to think about it, rather vintage-looking can.
1977.
Some seriously literal nostalgia in that can. And probably botulin. They'd lifted a case from my wife's grandparent's pub back in the day and forgotten about it for nearly three decades.
The only plus is that they were so horrified that they now always have beer in the fridge when we visit.