“The darks arts of beer brewery turn out to be quite the art form, a million miles away from hillbilly moonshine with the added bonus of not making you go blind. One day I will be asked: what did you do in the recession daddy – Get on your bike – Sell the Big Issue – Spend all day on the Guardian’s Comment is Free section- No, I shall answer, I brewed my own beer – even though past history shows that while I’m rather good at consuming and writing about the stuff, I’m not so good at producing Cuvee Tierney-Jones. Previous efforts at home brewing have resulted in a) brown ale that was so rubbish I used it to wash my Aladdin Sane feather cut with b) bitter so insipid that the dog turned its nose up at a bowl of it though my brother enjoyed a glass or two. But then in those days his idea of the perfect pint was Castlemaine XXX or a can of Fosters. Finally there was the cack-handed attempt at a barley wine so solid that I could have worn it as a coat.”