I was crying cheesy red wine tears on the evening of 4th May 2023. No, not because I was about to turn 44 years old in 48 hours time, but because it was the final #WWWSI night of the season.
When pre-season training exactly starts, the #WWWSI carabao cup is drawn, and when the 2023/24 season starts in earnest, I have absolutely no idea, but after this, it will be #SiFiPieFi for the foreseeable future, and a cost busting one at that!
My Mum bought me a 40 pack box of Space Raiders for my birthday, my sister chipped in with 16 craft cans from the House of the Trembling Madness (plus a crazy sci-fi t shirt), so all I have to worry about is pie n peas!
But back to the 4th May .... and no 'May the 4th be with you' jokes please - this was still very much Western > Sci Fi.
The preparation for tonight WAS going well in the early stages. Film #98 had been highlighted on my tatty paper and was actually free on Amazon Prime which made me wonder if it was going to be a little bit lame.
The ratings and reviews were generally good, apart from one idiot I think from North Lincolnshire who wrote "randomly switched this on, halfway through on a miserable Sunday afternoon, I don't like Westerns, especially old ones, so I hated this".
Reviews like that should be quoshed harder than a Lancashire #Pubman.
The final non-blend / non-speciality wine was Zweigelt:
The final bag of Wotsits in the back of my cupboard was located, and when preparing the 'entrees' I remembered I had some Sauerkraut lurking at the back of my fridge for years which is what tends to happen when you are a male bachelor! Felt very Austrian, so bunged some on, with some chilli olives and stuffed feta peppers obvs.
But then drama, a knock at the door! "There's somebody at the door" I chanted to Colin, very much the Emu to my Rod Hull. With more ESB and less Grotbags.
It was only Daddy Wotsit! Sunburned to a crisp, he'd been at Headingly all day watching everybody's favourite casual racists since Prince Philip carked it, Yorkshire CCC.
Well, he doesn't need a wee. So why is he loitering? Ah, I got it! "Fancy a pint?" I ask. "Oooh, well if your not too caught up in WWWSI" he replies. I'm never too caught up to go for a pint at one of my stunning lercels (locals). So we pop over to the Golden Ball, probably the closest classic to Wotsit Towers:
One pint becomes 1.5 or 2 pints, before he finally lets me get back to the important WWWSI business. Note to self : don't drink full bottle of wine.
This week's pizza sponsored by Sainsbury's thin & crispy (could be my new name for Bernard) range was Spicy Chicken. I'm terrible with spicy food. This was WAYYY hot. You'd however probably mark it a 0.1 on the Stefan Scougall scale. I'm strictly a Korma man, cannot cope.
The Zweigelt was a right bruiser. Von Der Land the name, isn't she a politician? The label looked retro 70's, pours out quite light so a wolf in sheep's clothing, full of fruit, I could really taste the Morello cherry, and I'm terrible at discerning flavours. Beer tastes like beer. Wine tastes like wine. End. Normally. Perhaps the Golden Ball ale had done something to my mouth? More likely the sauerkraut. Yuck!
Time to trial Uncle Matt's new obscure B-sides tape. What a corker! I recognised the Vernon Girls straight away, then we were into the always good value The Move. One of the more haunting, and weird tracks which I couldn't decide whether I loved or hated was by Del Shannon. I like his famous stuff, so I'll probably end up loving it given time!
With the clock ticking and me having work tomorrow, I couldn't tarry any longer. Let's get through for the film!
The Westerner was what I think the critics would call a 'reet enjoyable romp'.
Partly because so much of it was set inside the local village boozer. Silly Antic style name, tricky to get to on public transport (one stagecoach a day), but generous opening hours and pretty traditional inside:
Not too sure on the 'Ice Beer' at Law West of the Pecos, but am sure that just means dropping an ice cube in your Bass.
Most of the lads stuck to thimbles of the 30% Cloudwater:
Landlord was the judge for the whole town, and he wanted to hang this random visitor in the town without much evidence, as per his reputation.
His weakness? An actress called Lillie Langtry. You'd never have guessed from the decor in the bar:
So our mysterious stranger pretends he's met Lillie Langtry and spoken to her having lived in England for a while (I've been to two pubs of her name actually, one in Nottingham, one in West London, so am not sure why he didn't rename the pub).
The Judge believes him, and says he'll put off his public hanging if he can get him an 'Invitation with Lillie'. So our hero says yes, but he has to go to some right lengths, including wooing this girl, chopping off a lock of her hair, just so he can pretend it is Lillie's!
Lillie does end up randomly turning up for an audience of one, I was a bit hazy by then but it was quite an amusing film right until the end. Someone even brought their horse in for a pint. No 'why the long face?' gags either. This place was peak rural-Wiltshire.
And that was that! See you all in #SiFiPieFi land on Wednesday/Thursday.
I'll let you vote on Twitter for the beers like before, not sure if anyone will see as I've not used that Twitter account in ages. So just look out for it.
Until I next get a serious red wine and wotsit craving, farewell for now.
Si