Booze Britain

Caveat: I am not British, by nation of origin... but I do know about booze.

I'm from a generation that started drinking habitually as soon as we were old enough to get away with buying it. I make no apologies for that. I don't really 'binge' as such, but I do drink every day.¹ I'm not an alcoholic: I use alcohol to self-medicate, to help me stay normal... okay, relatively normal. In the evening I'll go out and drink, or sit at home and drink, depending on what I'm doing (or not doing). For an early morning, I'll sometimes add a drop of whisky or vodka to my breakfast coffee. I drink when I'm happy; I drink when I'm sad. I drink when I get anxious (usually helps) or depressive (never ever helps, but I keep doing it anyway). I mix my drinks, even though I know it's bad for me, and not just with each other: I mix them with sleeping meds, with speed, with pretty much all the things you're really not supposed to. Alcohol is a good 'balancing' agent for other psychoactives, particularly when you're mixing those--its ability to 'take the edge off' is precisely why we use it to relax, after all. Right now I'm drinking a spontaneous back-of-the-cupboard cocktail: Romanian plum brandy, Bombay Sapphire, lime juice and tonic. It's almost unbelievably disgusting; but I'll finish it, and quite possibly mix another (waste not, want not, y'know).

What I won't do is drink until I'm sick², or drink as an excuse to start scrapping. The idea that alcohol 'causes' violence or anti-social behaviour is the kind of leap-of-logic that only a politician can make. As the links above hopefully illustrate, binge-drinking as a pastime is nothing new in Britain. Historically, it was associated with two particular classes: those on the lowest rungs of the social ladder, principally unskilled city-dwelling labourers (whose lives were typically nasty, brutish and short), and the wastrel youth of the aristocracy (some things never change). The former group would often divert most of their earnings into alcoholic oblivion, whereas the latter could afford to drink as much as they liked, do very little else, and get away with it. Until relatively recently, the bulk of the middle classes seemed to steer clear of excessive social inebriation. So why is it that such a large proportion of the British population--people who, by historical standards, have no 'need' to drink themselves into a stupor, or kick anyone else's head in--now spend a significant proportion of their spare time and spending money doing precisely that?

Forgive me if I don't bother addressing the Cameronesque oh-isn't-alcohol-awful, look-what-it's-done-to-our-otherwise-marvellous-society drivel. Plenty of things are broken about Britain--not least its antediluvian electoral system, which you'll notice the Tories are defending to the death, because they can't survive without it--but ready access to affordable alcohol isn't one of them.³ Booze isn't the problem in Britain. It's the subliminal need for some kind of escape from the underlying frustrations and hopeless inequalities inherent in a consumerist society. People to use readily available alcohol as a gateway to vent those frustrations because they're subconsciously but profoundly fed up with their miserable, dead-end, no-prospect jobs, equally self-absorbed and superficial social circles, and lack of any sense of meaning or purpose in their lives beyond "buy more shit."

Furthermore: if you assumed that social binge-drinking comprised all there is to say about Britain's drunken history, think again. This country, as a nation-state and as an empire, didn't just get pissed for kicks: it was literally built on the judicious application of alcohol-fuelled violence. Why, you may wonder (as I often do) was Britain the world's greatest maritime power for almost three centuries? Well, there, are many reasons, but I submit that foremost amongst them was the fact that the Royal Navy was perpetually off its collective wooden arse. Remember the Battle of Trafalgar (1805), which cemented Britain's unchallenged command of the oceans for pretty much the entire 19th century? From 1655 until 1834--the period encompassing the rise and zenith of British naval mastery--the Royal Navy's rum ration was half a pint a day. And this was the basic ration, as given to the lowest ratings; higher-ranking seamen enjoyed even more generous allowances, while commissioned officers weren't rationed at all.⁴ Before a major engagement, extra rations would be issued to the lower decks, with the gunners getting priority.⁵ If you've ever wondered how the hell Nelson conceived and pulled off something like Trafalgar, you only have to look to the fact that neither he nor any of his crews could have been anywhere near sober at the time. Or, most likely, ever.

Similarly, the British Army's continental and colonial successes were largely dependent upon the gin ration (and if you think modern-day gin is nasty, you don't even want to know what that shit was like). Prior to the Battle of Waterloo, several British regiments were favoured with a triple gin ration--almost an entire pint of 60%+ volume alcohol per soldier (incidentally, the poor French soldiers had to manage on a paltry 2 pints of wine a day). No wonder they held off Napoléon for 12 hours: they were probably rendered physically incapable of retreating, even if they'd wanted to.

My dictionary would have me believe that the reason we term hard liquor "spirits" in this country is something to do with Middle Eastern alchemy. I have to wonder whether the etymology owes more to these beverages' association with morale. Either way, the world would likely be a very different place today if your sailors, soldiers and statesmen hadn't been comprehensively shitfaced at every critical point in modern history. That, I think, is the acheivement of which the British can be genuinely proud.


¹According to this handy little gadget, I typically average 4-5 units a day... but I'd estimate at least 4 or 5 times that figure on a night out, which happens about once a week (except when it doesn't). Apparently, this is really, really bad for me. On the plus side, I won't be needing an expensive full-length coffin when my head implodes.

² Although to be fair, I'm no longer even certain that's physiologically possible. Maybe if I tried mixing up some Listerine and antifreeze or something...

³ Ready access to affordable alcohol has, in fact, been possibly the single greatest beneficial advance in human society since the development of sustainable agriculture.

⁴ Also bear in mind that this wasn't fucking Bacardi, or the syrupy, 40%-volume crap we're used to nowadays; this was the stuff they used to pickle Lord Admiral Nelson's corpse for its return from Trafalgar to London. Interestingly in the context of binge drinking, by 1740 it was becoming common practice to water down the ratings' rum ('grog', of course) to prevent them from saving up several days' rations and drinking it all in one go.

( It was rare, even by the 1850s, for lower-deck seamen in the Royal Navy to survive to the age of 40, and the long-term effects of the rum ration was probably the single biggest contributory factor).

⁵ This wasn't as counter-intuitive a practice as you might suppose: given that the Royal Navy preferred to engage with broadsides at ranges under 25 yards, the gunners' nerve was of far greater importance than their accuracy.