RUM: NOT JUST FOR RIFF-RAFF ANYMORE

“You remember that I asked whether whisky and brandy were in the cabin. You said they were. How many landsmen are there who would drink rum when they could get these other spirits? Yes, I was certain it was a seaman."
Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of Black Peter

When you think of brandy, you probably picture a St Bernard (dog) rescuing a man in a snowdrift. When you think of whisky, you perhaps think of ghillies, whatever they are, shooting grouse in their gentlemen’s club. When you think of rum, you probably imagine a Central American peasant lying face down in a ditch, or sailors fighting in Plymouth.

Rum has an image problem, but they’ve put their top marketing people on it, and are re-launching it as a luxury product, the kind of thing that oil traders and secret agents can drink on their golfing holidays. I was invited to a tasting of Zacapa, the best -or at any rate the most expensive- rum in the world. It is produced 2,300 metres above sea level in the mountains of Guatemala, said their salesman. Well, well.

They gave me the 23-year old Zacapa, with its rich dark flavours, the mystery of the Guatemalan highlands in every sip. Twenty-three years ago Guatemala was having a civil war which left 200,000 dead, but the rum seems to have escaped unscathed, thank God.

Anyway, so I bought a bottle. It was a lot of money, but I am a man who appreciates the finer things in life. I didn’t have much to do next day, so I drank it in my underpants, while playing Mike Tyson’s Super Punch-Out.

Martin Amis wishes his sister had converted to Islam.

To me, Martin has always been the greatest of the Amis brothers. Sir Kingsley hasn’t written anything worth reading in years, while Sir Hardy has always been more interested in socks than in literature.

"Scarlet is perhaps the most masculine of all colours, but its very flamboyancy limits its use... The matching of socks to the tie I find affected."

Interesting points, but it’s not exactly Tolstoy, is it?


UPDATE!
On the other hand, Martin is the only Amis brother who doesn't have a knighthood, the useless fucker.

According to Venezuela’s newspaper of record, purchasing power has fallen 162% under Chavez. So if, pre-Chavez, you could buy 100 potatoes, you can now only afford 62 anti-potatoes.

What about the Venezuelan intelligentsia? What does he have to say about this?

Warren Buffett is now merely the world’s third-richest human. Thanks to my buy-high-sell-low investment strategy, I’m not even in the top twenty any more, so I’m in no position to point and laugh.

I may not know much about investing, but, if I were called Buffett, I would name my children All-u-can-eat and Salad.

REFLECTIONS ON THE ELECTIONS IN COLOMBIA

Patria this, patria that, patria the other. The patria can kiss my nutsack.

HOW TO WIN WITH WOMEN (2)

So I had the new Morso Cleanheat Multifuel stove installed. I reckon I can heat my house for a whole winter with the pizza fliers that come through my door.

I tried recycling the pizza fliers, but they kept coming back as more pizza fliers, on top of the pizza fliers that would have come anyway. This is why you must destroy the pizza fliers with fire.

How many women have I had since I had the stove installed? None, believe it or not. I am sure a lot of chicks would give their right arm to go out with a guy with a top-of-the-range stove, but it is hard to drop it into the conversation without seeming like some nouveau riche Russian.

I took out my Morso Multifuel owners’ manual in Starbucks today, and leafed through it while winking at the girl opposite me. She got up and left. She could hardy finish her coffee fast enough.

I don’t understand women.

But we were talking about pizza fliers. I have no grievance against the suffering fellow creatures who put the things through my door. They are only doing their job. And they are doing it very well, since if I go away for a few days, the pizza fliers are ankle-deep by the time I get back. If only the rest of the economy were this efficient we wouldn’t be in this hole.

I guess what I’m saying is... (more later.)

When I was a teenager, DJs would devote an inordinate amount of time to the question of who was, and who was not, in the house. Did anyone ever get to the bottom of that?