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Christmas at The Gunmakers
 A couple of months ago I spotted two cans of Tennent's Super in a Clerkenwell backstreet. Today, in exactly the same spot, there's the remains of another superstrength lager - Carlsberg Special Brew.
Well, if there's one thing you've got to say about our local phantom tramp, it's that he's catholic in his tastes. He also appears to be cutting back to one can instead of two. Perhaps the government's warnings on binge drinking are getting through to the poor chap.
Carlsberg Special Brew was first brewed in honour of Winston Churchill's visit to Copenhagen in 1950. Two crates were delivered to the old drunk's home in London. He enjoyed it greatly and sent a letter of thanks to the brewery. Today, it's brewed in Northampton for the UK market. It's an iconic beer, although for all the wrong reasons. It tastes like regular cooking lager spiked with a double shot of cheap blended whisky. Check out this unofficial fansite (turn on your speakers for the theme song, which includes the line "real ale is like a bowl of spew").
It's good to see one of my favourite London bloggers interviewed on the website of delicious magazine, complete with cute but coy photograph.
Krista, who writes londonelicious, visited our little pub recently for a couple of jars of Landlord. Sadly, she'd eaten already so I couldn't unleash Luis our chef on her. Actually, I want to rephrase that - I wouldn't set Luis loose on anyone, least of all a young woman. I'd just ask him to cook for her. That's all.
 Bünker is one of London's oldest brewpubs. It isn't everyone's cup of tea. They only brew two beers - no wacky experiments here. They play music (loudly) and it gets lively of a night time. They sell - and indeed promote - cocktails, which means young women come in and use up seats that could be reserved for fat, middle-aged arses. Then there's the location: slap bang in the middle of Covent Garden, next to a load of clothes and shoe shops.
 The beerhall (or " bierhall", as they insist on calling it) is in the basement of the Thomas Neal Centre. Exposed pipework creates an industrial feel in an otherwise warm, red brick space. The fermentation tanks are visible behind a glass screen, alongside a long bar topped with shiny steel. If you're out shopping of an afternoon, it's a nice place to relax on a huge sofa with a beer. In the early evening it fills with tarted-up boys and girls on the razz (you're Up West, innit). Shared tables create a friendly atmosphere. The unpasteurised Pilsner, served under air pressure from tanks, just about hits the spot for this lager lover. On recent visits, I've started to enjoy Soho Red, their dark beer. The recipe seems to have changed. Where last year it tasted like tar, spiked with sugar and essence of cough sweet, of late it's taken on an aniseed character, with a beautifully full body and a cleaner taste. The menu says it's "technically an ale". I assume they mean it's brewed with a top-fermenting yeast, although whether that makes a lagered beer an ale is open to question. Bünker won't suit everyone, but I quite like it. So does my flatmate Jon, but he's not terribly discerning, so don't listen to him. Bünker is at 41 Earlham Street, London, WC2H 9LD (website, map). I've visited a number of times over the years, but chose to write about it now because I've noticed a marked improvement in the beer.
I drank three pints of Staropramen last night, in fearsomely rapid succession. I'd just run 10k around the north and south banks of the Thames on what must have been the hottest day of the year. The beer tasted outstanding, and the first to touch my lips was one of the best pints I've had all year. The fluffy white head towered above the rim of the tall glass. As I sat outside the pub, a neighbour passed by in his car. He wound down his window just to say how much I looked like I was enjoying it. He was right.
If you're a runner too, you might be interested in MapMyRun.com.
You may have heard that Cain's of Liverpool - a thriving brewery - is facing a winding-up petition, filed by HM Revenue & Customs. Don't wet yourself: that doesn't mean they're going to go to the wall. Winding-up petitions are sometimes filed by creditors of perfectly healthy, solvent companies as a last-gasp tactic when negotiations over unpaid debts turn nasty.
Sure enough, Liverpool's local rag reports that "negotiations between the company and HMRC are at an advanced stage and that a conditional agreement has been reached for the debt to be settled, meaning the legal action will be halted".
Cain's (website) was first founded in 1850. It was taken over in 2002 by the Dusanj brothers. Apparently they're the first British Asians to run a brewery.
London's sweltering thanks to a 30 degree heat. Everyone's in the park - not the pub - so my duties behind the bar are much reduced. An afternoon of sunbathing beckons. I'll be a regular Ronaldo by the end of the day.
Yesterday's post provoked some discussion. Thanks to all those who made valuable contributions, and commiserations to those who tried - but failed - to do so. A person who enjoys beer, but isn't preoccupied with it, would be baffled by the outpourings of the latter group. Why did some people see red when I stated that Pilsner Urquell is "first class" and Staropramen "decent"? Why is that so hurtful to them? I suspect the angry mob divide into two factions.
First, consider what one commenter called "the fanboy mindset". To these chaps, popularity and wide distribution is a bad thing. After all, if the "normals" can enjoy it, what's the point? I expect that extends beyond beer to everything else in their world. Feeling shunned by mainstream society, they seek refuge in contrived, esoteric belief systems. Woe betide anyone who carelessly pokes at the shaky foundations of their credo.
Secondly, the political argument. Those of a vaguely anti-capitalist or localist bent might feel uncomfortable supporting "big business". I have slightly more time for this lot - but not much. Adopting such a stance doesn't necessitate the crazy view that all mass-produced beer tastes bad. Moreover, they might want to consider the realities of the breweries they do support. No-one's in this game for charity, and many a small brewer would love to step into the boots of the big boys.
For those who aren't versed in such things, according to Wikipedia Fanboy is "a term used to describe an individual who is devoted to a single subject in an emotional or fanatical manner, or to a single point of view within that subject, often to the point where it is considered an obsession".
 Do you want to live in a world where all mass-produced beers are shit? I don't - so I won't pretend they are. Beers from big breweries dominate the market both here and abroad. It's been that way for many years, and isn't going to change.
Thankfully, there are still some diamonds in the portfolios of the national and multinational brewcos. They might not be the best in the world, but they're readily available and can be enjoyed sans grimace. Take Pilsner Urquell, owned by SABMiller: some say it was better in years gone by, but to my mind it's still a first class beer on draught, even when pasteurised and sent to the UK. In the past I've referred to Staropramen - brewed in Prague but owned by InBev - as " one of the less enjoyable Czech lagers". I stand by that, but it's still streets ahead of the likes of Stella Artois and Carlsberg. We sell Star on draught in the pub, and on hot days I sometimes reach for one myself. It's a decent pint. I've spent the best part of three years seeking out obscure and interesting beers from around the world. I've tried almost every variety, from funky Belgian lambics to aggressive American DIPAs. Now I find myself applying more experienced taste buds and a better understanding of beer to mainstream products I temporarily dismissed out of hand. What I find are significant qualitative differences that demand attention. Unless you're happy to drastically restrict your options in terms of beers and the places you drink them in, then avoiding the produce of larger breweries simply isn't possible. I'm less enamoured than ever with pubs that cater principally for beer enthusiasts, and you know what I think about beer festivals. In short, I want to live - and drink - in the real world. Pictured are the mighty fermentation tanks at the Staropramen brewery in Smichov, Prague. I last visited at the end of last year and took the photo during a tour.
Waitrose have put Fullers Vintage Ale 2007 on special offer for only £1.39 a bottle. The limited edition brew is released in the autumn of each year, with every 500ml bottle presented in fancy cardboard box. This time around, the supermarkets have clearly had trouble shifting it at the normal price (£3.49, if I recall correctly). That doesn't bode terribly well for the future of top-end beers - I would have expected the stuff to sell out quickly.
With your help, I'm still quietly updating The London Beer Map. I don't do many things quietly and without excessive fanfare, so send up a flare. Check it out and be sure to leave a comment with any suggestions for additions. The feature was launched in November 2007, and so far over 80 locations have been added.
 The executors of Michael "Beer Hunter" Jackson's will have donated the contents of his personal office to Oxford Brookes University. Their website has more details.
Brookes is a former polytechnic with its main campus in the suburb of Headington. It houses the National Brewing Library, to which Jackson's books and papers will be added. Quite why the Bodleian Library didn't get the honour is beyond me. It's like keeping the crown jewels in Hull. On the other hand, the Vice-Chancellor of Brookes is called Janet Beer, and at least Cambridge didn't get it.
Michael Jackson was the world's leading beer writer. He died last August.
Two reps from Scottish & Newcastle pitched up unannounced in the pub today to discuss their portfolio. They asked why I don't stock any of their products on draught. I asked whether they could, in all honesty, name me one beer they sell that's worth having. They reeled off a list that included Fosters, Kronenbourg, Amstel, Heineken and John Smith's. There weren't any winners.
In the midst of the conversation - which by all accounts was quite uncomfortable - one of them opined that "there's no such thing as good or bad beer - just personal preferences". I was inclined to disagree strongly, but felt a bit of a tosser when I did so. How would you have responded?
If you employ actresses as barmaids, make sure they lack talent. Otherwise, they might just get work and fly the coop. That's what happened to me last week, as both Ms. C and Ms. G landed plum roles and announced their departure. Not enamoured with doing double shifts from here to eternity, I placed an ad on a popular listings website asking for applicants. In less than 48 hours, over 250 CVs have flooded in.
Several Romanians and Bulgarians are desperate to remind me that their countries really are in the EU. A woman from the breakaway Republic of Transdniestria tactfully explains its disputed status. There's a bloke who went to my school. One CV reads like a beer geek's manifesto. Pity the disconsolate Saffer who tells me she's sick of her life and wants to have "one last try in London". It's been some journey.
The best covering email I've received is as follows (caps not added):
"I AM A DYNAMIC FRENCH BOY" Apart from the attached CV, that was it. Such a strong sense of self is admirable, and I'm sure our Gallic pal is the Coming Man. However, I'm not sure I could hack that for a full shift, so I politely declined.
 The competition announced two weeks ago is over, and we have a winner. The challenge was to write, using no more than 175 words, about any beer you've tasted. The winner, Tom from Berkshire, submitted this about his teenage homebrewing experience:
We made our way gingerly into the cellar, the smell of stale beer rising to meet us. Reaching the foot of the stairs, the crackle of broken glass underfoot told its own story, as did the curiously sticky-to-the-touch walls. The weeks of waiting, the anticipation, the hopes of cheap drunken nights to come lay in shards all around. But then, just as it seemed all our efforts were for nothing, we spotted it, alone in the corner, its gaudy label catching the light of one last sweep of the torch: the only surviving bottle of “Blockbuster XXX”. A rousing cheer went up as we bore the bottle gently upstairs. A respectful hush descended as the cap was popped with a pleasing hiss, and with appropriate ceremony, the cloudy brown liquid within was distributed evenly among five glasses. After a hasty toast to our host and brewmaster, down it went and, just as quick, back it came in a cacophony of groaning, retching and spitting. Thus ended our first, and last, attempt at homebrewing. I think Tom's piece captures the joy of cack-handed homebrewing, despite the often disasterous results. Of course, some people produce beer at home that rivals commercial efforts, but for most of us who've dabbled, it's just a bit of fun. Tom wins a mixed case of 24 classic beers from site sponsor Beer-Ritz. They'll be sponsoring a number of competitions here over the coming year. I'll announce the next one in a month's time. Thanks to everyone who entered this time around.
The annual Italian procession is one of the most important dates in Clerkenwell's calendar. The event, which honours Our Lady of Mount Carmel, has taken place since at least the 1880s. The Italian community dispersed in the 1960s, but comes together every year to enjoy the decorated floats, food stalls and street parties. For one day, those of us who live in a very different Clerkenwell can see what London's Little Italy was like.
As we mingled with the crowd today - beer in hand - I took photos with my mobile phone. This one's my favourite: it's an Alpini veteran embracing a member of our own Metropolitan Police, as admiring signore look on.
The procession takes place annually on the first Sunday after 16th July. It starts at Chiesa Italiana di San Pietro in the mid-afternoon. The Alpini are Italy's crack mountain troops. They put up a good fight in the Great War, and have been fêted ever since.
At around 7.30pm on Thursday, Taddington Moravka became The Jerusalem Tavern's draught lager. They went through two 30 litre kegs by closing time. I did my bit. Pictured is the pub's A-board in Britton Street, announcing the new beer.
 The Jerusalem Tavern is at 55 Britton Street, London, EC1M 5UQ (map).
Taddington Brewery's Moravka is about to be permanently installed at The Jerusalem Tavern. The pub took delivery of ten kegs from Derbyshire yesterday, and the last barrel of imported Bitburger - the beer it's replacing - is about to run dry. I think it's by far the best British-brewed lager and one of the finest pilsners I've tasted anywhere. I'll be toasting its success at the bar tonight.
The Jerusalem Tavern is at 55 Britton Street, London, EC1M 5UQ (map). It's my local and one of the best pubs in the world. The only other London outlet for Moravka is The Pembury Tavern in Hackney (90 Amhurst Road, E8 1JH, website).
Remember, you've got until midnight tomorrow (Friday) to get your entries in for the beer writing competition. I'm asking for pieces of no more than 175 words describing a beer - any beer - that you've tasted. The prize is a mixed case of 24 classic beers from Beer-Ritz, Britain's longest-established online beer retailer. If you're bored at work, do it on the boss's time. You can always give him one of the bottles if you win.
Email you entries to stonchblog@gmail.com. Remember to include your full name and UK postal address.
 Who buys this stuff? I suspect the culprits are old men who think it's still the 1970s, spunking their pensions on pasteurised produce that harks back to the darkest days of British brewing. Well, if it makes them happy, and there are landlords who can devote a line to a product that'll only shift a keg a month, I suppose there's no harm in it.  I've encountered some real oddities on my infrequent forays into the badlands that lie beyond London's tarmacadamed girdle: Courage Mild (spotted in a traditional boozer by Eton College), Whitbread Best Bitter (in a country pub in Dorset) and Mitchells & Butler's Mild (in a village high in the Peak District), to name three. The breweries don't exist anymore, but someone still brews the beers for this most niche of markets. A couple of weeks ago an engineer came out to do some work on our cellar. Earlier that day he'd been asked to install a new keg font for Double Diamond, once Ind Coope's flagship bitter. Believe it or not, Carlsberg still make it up in Leeds. Neither of us could fathom why a publican would be looking to add a dead beer - in every sense of the word - to his draught line-up in 2008. If you'd like to take a gentle stroll through the graveyard of British beer, check out this post from September 2007.
 Standing at the foot of the escalator, you could be in one of Britain's detestable new towns. In fact, the N1 centre is right by the Angel, Islington. Let yourself drift up the moving staircase, and you're confronted with a multiplex cinema, a Lloyds bar and a particularly soul destroying eat-all-you-can Chinese buffet. To your left is the entrance to the Islington Academy, a big nasty music venue.
It isn't called the Carling Academy for nothing: inside, that's just about the only beer you can buy. Moreover, it's only served in those plastic glasses that bend in your hand as soon as you touch them, spewing the contents over the sticky dancefloor. Try carrying three of those back from the bar - I did, and half of the beer didn't live to tell the tale. I hadn't tasted Carling in years. I haven't missed it. It tastes a bit like soda water - nothing offensive, just . . . nothing. Never mind, drink enough of it and it gets you pissed. The Carling Academy Islington is at the N1 Centre, 16 Parkfield Street, N1 0PS (website). We were there for Club de Fromage. Carling is a 4.1% abv pale lager that's been one of Britain's best selling beers since the early 1970s. It's a Molson Coors brand, brewed in Burton.
The board of Anheuser-Busch, the USA's biggest brewer, has accepted InBev's latest $25bn$52bn* takeover offer. Although this is a straight acquisition by the Belgian company - as opposed to a merger between the two - the combined entity will be called Anheuser-Busch InBev. Once the deal goes through (assuming it does), none of the USA's three largest brewing companies will be domestically owned. BBC News Online has the story.
* The woeful condition of the US dollar means that's somewhat less than it sounds. But it's still rather a lot of money, and more than you could afford.
 Remember - there's a case of 24 world class bottled beers up for grabs. Click here to read last week's competition announcement. The deadline for entries is next Friday. You've got until then to submit a written piece of no more than 175 words about a beer - any beer - you've tasted. Maybe you'll focus on the flavours and aromas of the brew itself, or perhaps you're more interested in the moment. Either way, a few minutes effort could win you the prize.
My mate Jon produces business news at the BBC. He's just forwarded me this, hot off the wires:
NEW YORK, July 11 (Reuters) - InBev NV raised its takeover offer for Anheuser-Busch Cos Inc by $5 a share to $70 in an effort to seal a friendly deal, the Wall Street Journal reported on its website, citing a person familiar with the matter. Anheuser's board is likely to accept the offer this weekend, the paper said, citing a person familiar with the matter, adding that so-called social issues, including what thecombined company would be called, still need to be worked out. InBev declined comment on the report. In other news, I've presided over an extremely busy lunch service here in the pub without realising the flies on my trousers were undone throughout. Both barmaids and all of the kitchen staff noticed, but decided not to tell me.
Evidently, the place has claws. It's been half a decade since I moved to Clerkenwell, and Al's Bar is somewhere I keep coming back to. I'm not even sure I like it. We're meant to live in an age of 24 hour boozing, but this place still holds its own thanks to a 2am licence, no door charge and a suitably last-chance atmos.
Everything inside is broken. The tables, the chairs, the bar. All broken. The accumulated effect of night after night of pissed punters. Thumbing its nose at sophistication, there's a risible wine selection and not a single ale. Basically, you drink lager or spirits, or you fuck off. In the loo, the destruction is most evident. At some point little "captive audience" advertising screens were installed. Each and every one has been smashed like a bucket of crabs. A bloke stands next to me, pissing on to the floor. The look in his eyes is one of confusion, with a dash of anger.
Upstairs, the music jolts and shudders between tracks. We stand up and jig around, pretending we're somewhere where that might be vaguely appropriate. Where is the love?, the song asks. That takes me back. Inexplicably, an extremely fat Russell Grant is silently emoting on a big screen. The guy who'd pissed on the floor comes by. He picks up our empty glasses. He works here. Lovely.
Al's Bar is at 11-13 Exmouth Market, EC1R 4QD (map).
Guardian writer Tony Naylor took an absolute pounding from you lot when I linked to one of his articles recently. He'd set out to praise lager, but oddly decided to slag off cask conditioned ale along the way. Anyway, I'm sure he's not too upset that his scribblings met with some negative reaction. Sometimes, that's just what a writer wants.
In his latest piece, Naylor asks "What makes a great gastropub?" I disagree with the majority of what he's written - again. He reels off a list of idiosyncratically "Olde English" dishes that he reckons should form the basis of a pub menu. He thinks pub food should be "cheap" (less than £10 for a meal and a drink). He obviously has no idea of the economics of running a proper kitchen in a good pub. Then he opines that "if you have to book, it's obviously not anything that could be described as a pub". A popular place will get busy at peak times - when you're most likely to want a table - so that seems like a daft point of view.
As far as I can see, Naylor doesn't really see pubs and truly good food as going together. For him, you have to go to a restaurant for that. Not true, chum. Some of us want a fantastic meal, but would rather enjoy it in the informal and convivial setting of a pub, alongside others who might only be there for a pint.
Those of you who are CAMRA members (and you all should be, join here) will soon be receiving the newly revamped BEER magazine. Inside, there's a head-to-head discussion on food in pubs between myself and fellow writer Melissa Cole. I take a hard line on the term "gastropub" - I've come to dislike it intensely - but I support great food in great pubs.
 Drinking in rounds is a cornerstone of Britain's unhealthy boozing culture. It makes you down beers at the pace of the quickest imbiber, and means you have to stick around for the whole session to get your money's worth.
Of course, you also need to watch what you order when you're hunting in a pack. The smart money's on pints - essential for pace-setting - so excessively strong beers are a write-off. They're useless for social drinking, unless your legs are particularly wide and hollow. Likewise, at the other end of the scale, you don't want to invite mockery with a camp tipple.
That's where Long-Armed Dave went wrong on Saturday. We'd stopped at The Hope at Wandsworth Common. While the rest of us drank Pilsner Urquell, he opted for a cider. In the process, he made a very serious error: Aspall's Perronelle's Blush - pink and infused with blackberry - is one of the most dorothy drinks I've ever seen in a man's hand. Here's a picture of the offending article. We made sure he didn't enjoy it.
The Hope (1 Bellevue Road, SW17 7EG, map) is owned by pubco Mitchells & Butlers. The beer selection includes four constantly changing real ales (Fullers London Pride and Summer Ale, Black Sheep Bitter and a seasonal from Mordue on our visit). The selection of quality keg beers includes the sublime Pilsner Urquell and Meantime's Pale Ale. The pub has outside seating overlooking Wandsworth Common - a great spot for summer beers. Chez Bruce next door is one of South London's best restaurants.
The Guardian is Clerkenwell's local newspaper. I believe it's available outside of this area too, so perhaps you've heard of it. As an urban left-leaner of the smug twat variety, I read it happily while nodding along. However, this week I was slightly put out by something in the food and drink section. Writing about my old favourite, The Jerusalem Tavern, Thomas Keller has this to say:
"I was taken here for a drink by Heston Blumenthal. It's one of those great, atmospheric old London pubs with centuries of history behind it. And they pull a good pint of Guinness." Sorry, Thomas, but the JT's history began in the mid-1990s - the interior is modern. As for the "good pint of Guinness", the only dark beers on offer are St Peter's Brewery's own. In my best Alan Partridge voice: unbelievable. The Jerusalem Tavern is at 55 Britton Street, London EC1M 5UQ (map). The pub is owned by St Peter's in Suffolk. From the end of next week, they'll be serving Taddington Moravka lager from the Peak District alongside the brewery's own ales.
Yesterday we cycled down to Parson's Green to get involved in the Sloaney Pony's American Beer Fest. As we stood outside with landlord Dan and my fellow blogger Melissa Cole, the old Young's dray pulled up. Here's a photo.
 That's some easy blogging. Yes, sir. For those of you who are concerned with such matters, the best beer I had at the festival was cask Sierra Nevada Harvest Ale. Absolutely bloody brilliant.
 I've never been to America. Fortunately, American hops have come to me. St Peter's Brewery have produced a golden ale using Amarillo hops for Sainsbury's beer competition. Two bottles came my way from the CEO, Colin Cordy, via Dave at The Jerusalem Tavern. Their arrival in my grubby, beer-stained hands also coincides with the USA's Independence Day.
Friday is always mad busy here in the pub (I'd be worried if it wasn't). Nonetheless I've just found time to grab a breather in the cellar - the most tranquil place in the building - and crack open a beautiful, flask-shaped bottle of the latest effort from St Peter's Hall. The gloriously fresh aroma is packed with citrus fruit. It's pale, clear as a bell, and crowned with a coarse head that subsides disappointingly. The carbonation's great, sparkling on the tongue. It's fermented with champagne yeast, which might explain the very clean taste. There's a creamy body that reminds me of a first-class pilsner. The hops do bite upfront, but the aftertaste is long, gentle and fruity. This is excellent.
I need to go back upstairs. Madam will be frantic.
The owners of 12-year-old York Brewery are raising funds for expansion. They currently own four pubs - three in York and one in Leeds - but they want ten or more. They've instructed Avondale, a broker specialising in securing investment for small and medium businesses, to assist them. MD Tony Thompson has this to say:
“We have worked long and hard to build up York Brewery into a thriving, profitable enterprise. Last year saw the most progress yet – we opened our first pub outside York and increased our brewing capacity by 50 per cent. We believe the company is on the verge of even greater things, but we need help to get there.” It's good to see a small brewery looking to secure its future like this. The realities of the market dictate that many will go under as we move into a period of economic hardship. Only those run by people with true commercial nous will survive, and rightly so: producing good beer just isn't enough. Of course, there are supposed beer enthusiasts who seem to smell a rat whenever small breweries seek to break out of the box. Such jokers are to be ignored. York Brewery (website) was founded in 1996, ending a four decade hiatus in beer production within the city's ancient walls. It currently has a capacity of 150 barrels a week.
 Saturday's review of Mann's Brown Ale seemed to tickle you.
To continue the theme of minuscule brews, I cracked open a 275ml bottle of Harvey's Nut Brown Ale yesterday. I picked it up from an offie by the railway station in Lewes, close to the brewery. The label is classic Harvey's - a blast from the pre-war past. The stocky, brown glass vessel looks absolutely gorgeous.
So how did it taste? I really wanted to like it. I love Harvey's, and I love little beers. Indeed, you could even say I have a little beer agenda. Sadly, this one wasn't so good.
Sweet malt. Water. Flat coke. Dissolved aspirin.
That's your lot. Sorry.
Drink beer. Write about beer. Win beer. Drink more beer. It's that simple. This is the second competition on Stonch's Beer Blog. There were over 100 entries to the Visions of Beer photography contest back in December. This time, you don't even need a camera.
I'm asking you to write, using no more than 175 words, about any beer you've tasted. It's up to you whether you opt for a relatively formal tasting note, or try to evoke a sense of place or capture a particular moment in time. Unusual angles on the subject are more than welcome. Entries that catch my eye will be published on the blog as we go along.
 The prize? Site sponsor Beer-Ritz will send the winner a case containing 24 classic bottled beers from Britain, Belgium and elsewhere. In case you're in any doubt - that's a hell of a good prize. Beer-Ritz is Britain's leading online beer retailer, having been in the business for ten years.
Email your entries to me at stonchblog@gmail.com before midnight on Friday 18th July. Include your full name and address with your entry. The competition is open to all, but the prize can only be sent to addresses in the UK.
If you're looking for inspiration, remind yourself of this famous passage from Thomas Hardy's Trumpet Major:
"It was of the most beautiful colour that the eye of an artist in beer could desire; full in body, yet brisk as a volcano; piquant, yet without a twang; luminous as an autumn sunset; free from streakiness of taste, but, finally, rather heady".
Middlesex brewery Grand Union folded back in January. I was a fan, after tasting a number of their beers at festivals and in pubs, and was sad to hear the news. However, one of the comforting things about brewery closures is that the kit often finds a good home somewhere else. Step forward Betwixt Beer Company, the latest venture of Mike McGuigan (formerly of ZeroDegrees, Brakspear and Meantime, among others). They snapped up the distinctive orange vessels from Grand Union, lugging them up to the Wirral for a new lease of life.
  
The photos show the GU plant being broken down, in transit, and arriving at its new home. Click on them for a closer look.
Mike McGuigan regularly comments on this website using the handle "MicMac". I'm very grateful to him for the email updates about his new venture and for providing the photos above.
Last year, this blog hosted Visions of Beer, a photography competition. Prizes were dished out, and the winning entry ended up framed on the wall of the Suffolk pub in which it was taken. As we head into summer, it's time for another contest. Online retailer and new site sponsor Beer-Ritz are celebrating their tenth anniversary. To mark the occasion, they'll be sending one of you a case containing two dozen British, Belgian and international bottled beers. I'll publish full details on Wednesday.
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A couple of months ago I spotted two cans of Tennent's Super in a Clerkenwell backstreet. Today, in exactly the same spot, there's the remains of another superstrength lager - Carlsberg Special Brew.
