Another unrecognised skill

Anyone who can hold their beer is, among some groups, held to have strength, manliness, a big belly and type 2 diabetes. Any behaviour caused by the overindulgance of beer is also treated well, jolly japes that are a bit of fun.

It has always been that way.

Recent reinterpretations of Egyptian hieroglyphics are thought to show not the triumphal outcome of an army of Anubis battling the forces of the dead but the equivalent of a police report on breaking up a fight at a wedding reception when Sue's ex turned up with his mates from the darts team.

But there are some byproducts of boozing that are underrated. Writing your name in the snow, or reaching above eye level are never going to be suitable for your cv, especially if Tracey Emin ever does them. I once had bladder muscles a baby elephant could use as a trampette, I was so fast going for a slash and dash at the urinal I would pass myself on the way back. Apart from the odd comment, I was never appreciated and now the glory days of youth are behind me and thoughts of a catheter haunt my urethral dreams.

We used to have potties, until internal plumbing and inside toilets relegated them to Steptoe and Son regulars. When away in the wilds the other week, a potty in the teepee would have been a good idea, but Native Americans obviously weren't big on giant teacups. In the night, Liz would grumble, get dressed, snuffle around for a torch and return, still grumbling, and stare at my bottle of "apple juice" and sniff. Yeah, women have a go about men being able to "just whip it out and go where you like", but there is a real craft involved when, pissed on beer and rum and hot chocolate, you sway, in the dark, and half fill a an empty Tesco 2 litre bottle of Spring water while humming "Duke of Earl". You have to have Smart nob aiming skills to keep your stream within the bottleneck, be able to equalise pressure to avoid a serious blowback, and judge, by ear alone, how close to overfill you are.

Top that, missus! You can't, can you?

But you know you want to.

Now, who fancies a warm Appletise?