Fuel for life

Admirers of David Cronenberg’s ouvre will remember that bit in ‘Scanners’ ( a cheaply made Canadian horror flick from the 1980’s) where the baddies heads explode - those of you unfamiliar with the film won’t, but can imagine the mess.  And in order to save you experimenting, this is the effect of a swiftly downed glass of Eau de Vie. Only milder.

Years ago, it was possible to legally brew & sell the stuff at the roadside and, like the whimsically named  fée verte or green fairy ( absinthe  to you and me), it’s about 100% proof.

Assuming you survive its initial assault, you’ll find yourself in a fuzzy parallel universe  -  one where your body moves by its own volition while your head struggles to keep up. If you want to accentuate the effect, have a glassful then go from the overheated bar to take a lungful of bracing outside air. Once you’ve picked yourself up, allow half an hour or so before you try anything difficult, like walking.

Yet despite its ‘Dignitas in a bottle’ like characteristics, Eau de Vie – in a dozen different flavoured guises - is still a popular tipple. Frequently offered as an aperitif, it has the advantage of removing any inhibitions you may have about your faltering French – always assuming your throat isn’t entirely cauterised by the first gulp. And, after a further glass or two of red you’ll believe yourself to be the finest raconteur your very polite French neighbours have ever entertained, your accent rippling, tenses perfect and vocabulary positively encyclopedic.

Come the following morning, and prompted by your disapproving spouse, you realise that this perhaps wasn’t everyone else’s experience. Keeping a low profile, a couple of weeks go by and then you’re invited once again – so perhaps your heart felt and tuneful rendition of la Marseillaise wasn’t so badly received after all. But this time, stick to something less powerful. Like meths.