Those of you who know me well will confirm that I am by no means a tub-thumper, I do not get fricasseed at every opportunity, and the last time I got pyjamaed I was still in short trousers. So, it was with great curiosity that I observed the antics of the drinkers at yesterday’s gig. My observation centred on one particular party-goer who I will call Desperate Dan.

Stage One – Stone-Cold Sober
Now Desperate Dan was a big lad with hands the size of coal shovels. The first time I spotted him he was strolling across the field with six pints of lager, three in each hand and a cigarette in his mouth with ever-extending ash on the end of it. He never once glanced at his precious cargo of the amber nectar, busy as he was looking out for the most voluptuous or least clad lady along his route. Sure-footed Dan did not miss a beat, nor spill a single drop.

Stage Two – Agitated but in Control
Several trips to the bar later, I spotted Dan again. He still had a cigarette in his mouth, but it now appeared to be rising and falling in time with his every breath.
His load had reduced to a mere three pints and he was staring fixedly at them as if they were a quiescent wild animal that could rise up and grab his throat at any moment. He walked faster than before, his eyes never moving from the three glasses in his hand and fellow concert goers had to move out of his way to avoid any collision.

Stage Three – Inebriated
My final sighting of Desperate Dan came late in the evening. Drink had had a physical affect on him as well as adding to his paranoia.
He now only trusted himself with the one pint, but this no longer seemed to offer any kind of threat to Dan – it was now the path which seemed to be providing cause for concern. He glanced from side to side along the route seeking out potential booby traps along the way.
Physically, he now quite clearly had one leg shorter than the other. His right leg remained fully formed but he was taking longer strides with this leg to compensate for his foreshortened left leg. Indeed, the left leg appeared to be trying to ride an imaginary cycle.
The result was that Dan would perform an almost perfect ‘Ministry of Silly Walks’ on one side whilst dipping down sharply on his bent ‘cycling’ leg. The drama of this style filled him with horror because it was clearly the pathway that was doing all of this to him.
The ebb and flow of his gait meant that by the time he got back to his pals two thirds of his pint had been spilled and he looked incredulously at the glass for some minutes before downing what was left of his pint, turning on his heals and heading back down the same treacherous path to get his due rewards.

As I sat and enjoyed my lime and soda I could only give my thanks to Desperate Dan for an insightful evenings observation.