To Hell With Abstinence Immortality!

Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar and fat.   Alex Levine




Hey, just woke up, afternoon nap. confined to barracks by the rain, and couldn’t be bothered to fiddle around with the blog.

Some days my routine goes down the tube and just to compound my domestic chaos, I’m now about to fry up some bacon and eggs, a treat I normally reserve for Sunday mornings.


Which brings me immediately to the quote at the top, inspired by a news item just heard on BBC’s International news, that scientific research has now shown that between three and five cups of coffee a day are GOOD for you.


Clears the arteries so we’re told,  and after years of do-gooders deploring in hushed horror the fact that I have at least three coffees every MORNING, plus a regular series of top-ups throughout arvo and into evening, joyous tidings indeed.




Some of those who warn me are well-intentioned friends, like one of my welcome visitors here at home. That sort of thing I forgive, because they have been indoctrinated by the other sort, viz. the usual prim kill-joy creepoids in the media, tax-leeching health freaks, who also nag me about my three packs a day and about my known taste for free-flow beer events held around Jakarta.

Not just me, of course, but everyone who shares my abhorrence of  “abstinence immortality” – as in an old song I once heard, in a bar, of course –

Since he’d never lived, how could he possibly die?




Now I look forward to the emergence of revisionist researchers in other fields of human existence. In the West, it will take a brave scientist to stand up to the totalitarianism of the EUSSR, which has even banned menthol cigarettes…

EUSSR Goes Mental Over Menthol! 

…and the nonsense of plain packaging, which treats adults as infants.





And the war on scare-mongering must also be waged in defence of all those poor people who go home after work and relax with a glass of wine as they watch their favourite tv programmes.

Weren’t they told, a year or so ago, that they were sinking into a self-destructive slough of despond? 





Gotta go make sure my bacon does’t get over-crispy in that frying pan!