After a graphic detailing the effect that Coca Cola has on your body within an hour of consumption went viral due to having grossly blown things out of proportion, many parodies have emerged. According to reports, an Englishman drinking Irn-Bru will eventually want to join the SNP and Buckfast will have you urinating upon yourself before you’ve even made the bus into town, but what happens if you drink the besmirched ‘chav wine’?
FIRST 10 MINUTES
You will find yourself rifling through the cupboards for literally any ingredient to dull the foul after-taste and have a new found empathy for Bear Grylls. Lost in a forest with only a bottle of Lambrini? You’d rather drink your own wee. Still, you reason with yourself. You delude yourself that the further down the bottle you go, the more palatable it will become. Wrong.
20 MINUTES
To get your mind off the taste, you decide to put some music on, only all of a sudden you’re questioning your tastes. Rock, indie? Must be having a laugh, mate. You aint no emo. You will know only of house, trance and hard-style. You find yourself swaying atop the kitchen counter preaching HARDCORE ‘TIL I DIE to your friends like the sermon on the mount. You’re gonna get it tattooed on you tomorrow, you swear on your mum.
40 MINUTES
You’re doing a ‘gangster lean’ out the kitchen window, fag in mouth, bottle in hand, when you notice the neighbour’s kids next door have left their tiny bicycles out in the garden. You rush to inform your posse that you’ve sorted transport to the club but it turns out that most of them are huddled in the corner around a bag of M-Kat and your bezzie mate Kezza is all over Darren which is like, well bad, ’cause her lads in jail and they’re getting married next week.
45 MINUTES
Growing concerned over the unfolding events, you decide to assert your authority by donning a Burberry cap of leadership. It’s real, honest. Fat Dave at the local market said so and he’d never lie to you ’cause you two are solid. You round up the crew, hop the neighbour’s fence where your valiant steeds await you. You ride those kiddy bicycles into the night, knees above your head like a true warrior, still sipping from that bounteous glass goblet.
50 MINUTES
Nearing town, you set your horses free. That is, err… chuck them into a bush. Your cigarette lands in a public bin with such precision as to begin burning through the liner, leaving fire and destruction in your path. A stranger appears. You’re not sure what your ‘bredrin’ are, but you’re adamant that this person has disrespected them. However, being the generous human being that you are, you make them a reasonable offer. ‘Give us 20p or I’ll nick your shoes’, you assert as your loyal companions group behind you.
60 MINUTES+
One black eye and bloody nose later, you make it to the club entrance. You stand up straight and prepare your best imitation of sobriety whilst fantasizing over all the well fit birds or lads inside and how you’re definitely getting it tonight, when the bouncer turns to you and says ‘Sorry mate, no trackies’.
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