Street Economics

Last week I wrote about this Street Writer, writing on behalf of the man on the street - giving voice to his concerns. But you know those men in the street, they use some really coarse and abrasive language. Makes my ears gasp. And it’s just as well I’m not quoting word for word.

As a street writer you need to see past those things into the depths of what they’re really saying, about how it’s so good mini skirts are back, and how that flamin’ mut over the fence had me awake again all night, and how the price of everything just keeps going up, and how it’s not long until we have digital price tags that just tick over all day long so you have to rush to the counter before the price ticks again.

All my money has been drawn out of the bank. It’s stashed in a sock under the mattress. But it won’t be there for long dear reader. I’m investing in commodities! I’m buying in bulk. By this time next week my place will be stocked wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with bags and bags of wheat. I’m investing in local food. The guys we’re going to need if the global supply chain ever falls over.

Photo by Vlad Stawizki on Unsplash

But full disclosure, I work for a local food distributor, the kind that might be in high demand if the worst comes to the worst. And perhaps I should hold my tongue on giving out investment advice, you know, as someone who believes; if I kiss enough frogs I might one day find my Prince Charming who will solve all my problems. Er, well perhaps frogs aren’t your thing.

Nevertheless, it occurred to me down the local stout dispensary what we should indeed be investing in. And indeed it was St Paddy’s Day. And I was happily shamrockin’, as was fit, when it appeared like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow (or at the end of a bar). Like, if you’re looking for a bargain how about investing in people? Ha! What does that even mean anyway? No. I mean to invest in the drink. I know I know, it has received a lot of bad press, but no wait, hear me out. If it doesn’t seem like a good investment maybe we’ve just been doing it all wrong.

Photo by Blake Wisz on Unsplash

There’s “proper way” to drink a pint o the black stuff. Proper not because it’s traditional or trying to inflict itself upon your individual freedoms or suppress some devil worshipers’ way of doing it. No. It’s proper because it’s better. And it’s not better because it’s my personal opinion. It’s proper because there’s a definitive improper way. Don’t drink it with a straw for example. It’s not the way it’s done. You don’t want to be improper do you? Save your improper ways for those times when you’re drinking alone and find out for yourself. There’s a good way and a most certainly evil way. And only if you’re on the other side of the planet from the River Liffey should you do it the exact opposite way. Just kidding haha.

And what’s the best thing about an Irish joke the timing.

You can’t know unless you’re told. Just a glance of a pint, an untrained eye cannot see the difference. There are, for the keen eyed pint drinker, 4 draws in a pint. It’s not luck. It’s not because the gift of the gab requires the space and time. It’s not so the giggles or the salubrious magic of the drink can take its effect. It’s not to make your company more interesting or attractive. It’s not even to hold off and raise the level of anticipation and tension in the telling of the tallest of tale. It’s not even so you get to see the rings in the glass. As good as it sounds - No.

Because we’re friends by now, I’ll let you in on it. It’s like a sacred ritual. I say it’s like that. But that’s just the kind of thing people say who only just ‘kind of’ understand. They think they get it. They do the things, and they think they’re doing them right, and sure they’re following the steps, but it’s still a bit strange because they thought wee fairies should appear or something. Because maybe they were told to do it that way, because it’s the only way and they didn’t want to be improper. And sure they’re doing it but it’s just not quite right because they’re missing something. But hey, after a few, who even cares? Like they’re staring at the toucan and beconing to it - come on, do something funny! But the toucan is just staring back and doing toucan things and not in the least intending to do anything funny.

And even by the time we’re downing that last draw and things are getting a bit sloppy, that sacred ritual, that one and only way, that strictly proper process, it’s all for one very practical reason. It doesn’t involve the evoking of fairies, I’m sorry to say. No it’s far more mundane. This one proper way of drinking, drinking in four draws, it’s for the single lone purpose of time. It gives the drink time to settle before the next draw. Sorry. Maybe it was better when it was a secret. But if you don’t take the whole thing in one big gulp like this, it’s going to leave us a bit unsettled, well that’s simply not why we’re here dear reader.

We’re here first and foremost in the appreciation of good company and the rituals of enhancing every aspect of that. And if it takes a little ritualistic settling of things in the way we go about it, if we want to call them rules, sure, maybe a bit heavy for my liking, but sure. It’s when we forget why we have traditions that they become strange and slightly unsettling. It’s when we think the proper way is just another stale tradition we should throw to the wind. But try not to throw the baby out with the bath water.

And, on attempting to leave my seat I almost fell flat on my face. That would be the second week in a row the street came up to meet me. But I really need to observe this custom more often and appreciate your gentle company dear reader, and far more frequently, so as to gain the practice it takes to remain balanced and not fall on my face. After a single pint like that one I have become invincible! It’s very good value when you take that into account. A super investment! I might need you to carry me home dear reader.

But if you’re seeing the fairies you’re doing something wrong.

And in Australia we like to do things the improper way. It’s an opportunity to show our distain for the system - that we’re independent and we love our freedom and we’re willing to brandish it about even if it’s going to make a mess.

But even with that straight forward and most influential argument, Australians are unlikely to take my advice. If there’s anything we take pride in, it’s our culture of being uncultured swine. So our tradition of being improper, you understand, makes it necessary to do everything in the worst possible way and not enjoy any kind of enhancement to the experience of being human. Australians are good at other things.

So find yourself some good company - cry out “down with materialism“ and slàinte to drinking it properly. And maybe for those who can’t handle the drink (or those who shouldn’t try), how about we just be satisfied with good company and leave it at that. Because in this, the best of company, will we find those ways, together, to ride out the worst of economies and the most trying of times.