Robert McNeil: Pint of happiness and a half of bonhomie please. Cheers!

Published on Monday 31 August 2009 21:35

OH, THE crittur, the drink! The subject of alcohol is so stressful now, it would make anyone reach for the bottle. It's good for you. It's bad for you. Moderation is the key, but we're human and so, every now and then, we say: "Away with moderation! I cannot stand this grey sensibleness any more! I'm heading for oblivion!" Feel free to add a manic laugh. But remember how awful you're going to feel next day.

It won't just be the physical symptoms, but also the guilt, which is integral to the soused northern psyche.

That said, in Italy, it seems young people are adopting British ways – ie, getting blotto. In times past, people in Italy and other Third World countries regarded squiffiness as shameful. They always stopped at one or two glasses. This was because they were happy in the first place, as a result of adequate sunshine. In Scotland, Scandinavia and other northern realms, the imbiber after two or three glasses will say: "My God, what is this strange thing I am experiencing? I know: it's joy! I'm happy! And I'm not stopping now! No way! I want to get even happier!" Shortly afterwards, he wakes up in a police cell with his troosers unaccounted for and a parking cone on his heid.

The Scottish Government's licensing reforms are well intentioned, but they do make you wonder about the narrowness of our political ambitions: the last administration's flagship policy was aboot fags; that of the current one is aboot booze. At the same time, they're doing everything possible to save Diageo, the drinks manufacturer. Glass of Irony Bru anyone?

Pubs are apparently going bust, though, like shops in a similar position, they appear on the face of it to be doing a roaring trade. When choosing a bar with your chums, the big problem is to find somewhere that's "not too packed". On a Friday or Saturday night, it's almost impossible.

That's one reason many people drink at home, particularly middle-aged, settled folk, who aren't going to the pub to bag off with a burd or bloke. I rarely drink socially now, preferring to imbibe at will in the privacy of ma hoose, usually having just three or four noggins before dinner, to act as an anaesthetic against my cooking.

Certainly, the service is better at home. The new legislation should have a sub-section addressed to Scottish bar staff: "For God's sake, cheer up." Recently, I walked into a bar in Morningside, and the barmaid's welcome was so unfriendly that I burst out laughing. She didn't even have the excuse of being Scottish. Foreigners working here soon adopt Scottish customs and ditch the natural cheerfulness of their native lands.

In Edinburgh, one interpretation of the legislation has seen bar staff told not to ask customers: "Same again?" The news has been greeted with guffaws and outrage. But surely this is academic? In 36 years of bibulousness, I cannot recall "Same again?" being said to me more than twice. It only really comes up in the idealised friendliness of English sitcoms, rarely in the grim reality of a Scottish bar, where nobody knows your name. The added stipulation that bar staff should ask topers if they'd rather have a glass of water risks seeing levels of violence in licensed premises rise alarmingly.

Changes have already occurred in Scottish drinking life, without legislation. You rarely see rubber men nowadays. Billy Connolly first identified these late middle-aged chaps, staggering home from the pub on bendy legs that went in different directions. Nowadays, you're more likely to see gangs of bald young bucks in untucked shirts shouting the odds (the veteran drunk had mumbled conversations with himself).

The one thing legislators, experts and so forth never acknowledge is, as usual, the blindingly obvious: people drink to get happy. Until the Scottish Government can crack that one – and a Joy (Scotland) Act was sadly absent in its manifesto – matters will remain thus.

Ghosts, grisly twists and MSP's allowances

I WAS delighted to read that Ron Halliday, a top paranormal investigator, is offering to hunt the ghost said to haunt Queensberry House, the old part of the Scottish Parliament.

The ghost is supposedly that of a young kitchen servant murdered and roasted on a spit by a nutty aristocrat. To compound the ghastliness, the murder took place as the Act of Union was being passed, in 1707.

Now, it's said an eerie presence and, more disturbingly, the scent of charred meat can be detected at the site of the old kitchens which, in another sickeningly grisly twist, now form part of the office where MSPs' allowances are calculated.

You couldn't ask for a better man than Ron to trace the spectre. I used to get quotes from him on many weird phenomena.

As a result of one story, you can find the following doing the rounds of the internet: "Robert McNeil, writing in another respected Scottish paper, The Scotsman, claimed last June (February 1999, I think] that not only was Aurora/Senior Citizen flying from Machrihanish, but that alien spacecraft were being dismantled there."

Of course, I claimed no such thing. I reported the claim. The piece continues more accurately: "McNeil (I think you'll find that's Mr McNeil actually] reported that Ron Halliday, the chairman of Scottish Earth Mysteries Research, had claimed that remote areas of rural Scotland were being used in similar ways to the mysterious Area 51 in the United States, where secret aircraft are supposedly tested and where the alien victims of the Roswell UFO crash were supposedly taken for dissection."

Happy days. I wish Ron all the best in his spooky quest, and hope he doesn't find things too scary in the MSPs' expenses office.