It’s just gone 11 AM, your head is fuzzy, and you roll onto your side to find a half-finished can of Stella. Your body screams for hydration but your head rails against the prospect of drinking lukewarm piss, flat, tasteless, and sticky. Oh, fates! Defeated, you slump back into bed, clutching your pounding head and cursing the decisions that led you to this moment.

My friends, I have, after substantial research, found what I believe to be the ultimate sesh fuel. Hobgoblin, a product of Witchwood Brewery, is a ruby ale which tastes nice, can be downed with minimal effort towards the end of pres, and, most importantly, is 5.2%. A 500mL (2.6 units) bottle goes for 1.39 in the local Tezzers.

There are some very important consequences of this. Namely, this beats the 3-for-5 deal: 3 for 4.20 (ain’t that a beautiful coincidence?), serving up 7.3 units of wonderful, wonderful ale. Few other “nice” beers compete; the popular Doom Bar is only 4.3%, and usually costs in the range of 1.80 to 2 quid per 500mL, and so is much less efficient when you’re trying to get out the door to Egg (house music deeper than the scarring in my liver).

Oh, but you observe, you could just stick with trusty ol’ 1664 or Stella, or, god forbid, Fosters. They might not have the percentage, but they do have the volume - you can grab a pack of 4 tallbois for a similar price. But that’s only 8 units, so for the cost of drinking something less enjoyable, you’ve only gained a margin of 0.7 units. Was it worth it?

And this leads me to my last and most important point - drinkability under varying circumstances. You’re heading out to the sesh, so you dunk your cans in your bag and set out on your merry way. But unless it’s the dead of winter, those cans are gonna start to warm up. A lager that ain’t cold is a lager that ain’t enjoyable. Better get the road bevs in before they go lukewarm, and better hope that the sesh on the other end of the journey has a fridge with enough room for your brews.

Cue the hobbo gobbo, a beer which maintains its drinkability and taste over a wide range of temperatures and varying degrees of flatness. Your worries about beer temperature essentially evaporate. I mean, sure, it’s still preferable to imbibe chilled (quoth Strong Bad: “a one that is not cold is scarcely a one at all”). But the implication of the act of imbibing warm entering the realm of possibility has profound consequences.

To come full circle: it’s just gone 11 AM, your head is fuzzy, and you roll onto your side to a half-finished bottle of Hobgoblin. Oh, merciful gods, yes!