>“Tell me what makes a man?’, crooned out Westlife, a pretty boyband, specialisers in covers of songs that don’t need the compliment. Well it’s a debate every lesbian wonders about and Roseanne Barr has come closest to solving. Some men or rather a nation of men think they have the answer. Generosity? Fair play for women? No. Of course not. Its the old adage of how much alcohol you can drink.
Now the local firewater is Soju, a paraffin made from potatoes. After the opening gambit of “So do you like soju?” (once the “ahhhhs” have died down to your positive response), the guys immediately move in with “So how many bottles can you drink?”
Now I’m old school about drinking. My general feeling is if I can remember how much I drank last night, then I didn’t drink enough. That’s cos drinking, where I am from is a professional skill, something cultivated from youth, over hundreds of hours, weeks of day sessions, days of potential arrests moments and the odd night in the police cell. In short, almost worthy of your CV.
But that’s the trick here. Drinking is a short term business. The locals can remember how much they drunk because they live by speed drinking or binge drinking, encouraged on by nervous blind dates, business ge- togethers and submerged in tiredness. They drink, redden up and pass out in the restaurant, to be dragged to a taxi, money thrown on the chest by paralytic workmates. He’ll get home and tomorrow will be at work by 9am, head on desk by 10am.
So as Carter wisely said in the great original Get Carter from 1971
“You’re a big man, but you’re out of shape. With me it’s a full time job. Now behave yourself. “