‘How sweet the scotch tastes after the porter.’
Being the sort to think that life is about little if not connections, and the phrase having a certain edge to lift it above the mundane, it occurred to me that this has to be a metaphor for something. I wonder what. Let’s try:
Out of the strong came
forth sweetness.
That’s all about Samson killing the lion and getting honey
as a reward, and it’s been printed on every can of Tate & Lyle’s Golden
Syrup since time immemorial (which means ‘before I was born.’)
And so I ruminate: is this about alcohol having some sort of connection to the universal power struggle? The meek shall inherit the earth, perhaps. Not convinced. Best have another scotch and see what comes up. This came up (I swear, it just came up. It's another one that appeared mysteriously like ectoplasm in a Victorian drawing room.)
It seems I should
drink
To discover the link
While ladies in aspic
Look pretty in pink
Ah, so now we have a connection with gender roles and social
stereotyping. More than that, even – with Lady Gaga and the suffragettes, no
less. Am I getting somewhere?
I ruminate some more, I drink some more, and I remain unconvinced. I think I should stick with the simple fact that
scotch is stronger than porter but also happens to be sweeter before I become too academic
and fall over. Time for bed.
I have to go and vote for my next MP tomorrow. It will be the
same as the last one, of course. I won’t get my first choice – wrong colour – and
there is no second. The Shire is unremittingly blue, and that’s that.
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