When I was a spotty faced teenager in the early 1980's, I was a bit of a Rude Boy. Not rude in the sense that I would flick V's at pensioners on the number 45 bus. When I say Rude Boy, what I mean is that I was no stranger to Sta Press trousers, Bass weejun shoes, Fred Perry polos and fishtail parkas.
One of my favourite bands of mine at the time were Madness. As a thirteen year old, I thought they were great and, even now when I hear certain songs of theirs, it takes me straight back to the second year school disco and the intoxicated feeling you would get when three of us shared a can of Breaker Malt Liquor and a whiff of the Third Years' Vodka.
What has this nostalgic preamble into my past got to do with beer, I hear you say.
Well, it's simple. I used to revere those lovable Cockney roustabouts but my affection for them diminished today when I saw that thay have been selling their soul to the corporate beer devil by making this advert for Kronenbourg, owned by Carlsberg.
If I could be arsed, I'd be disappointed.
I guess I kind of gave up when Iggy Pop and John Lydon started flogging insurance and butter. Admittedly, It's not on the same bad taste scale as those two.
I just hope they got paid well.