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The Session #147: Downing pints when the world’s about to end

For the May 2025 edition of The Session, Phil Cook invited us to write about beer and pubs in art and fiction. This is my contribution to it (spoiler alert: plot details of The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy will be discussed).

“Six pints of bitter,” said Ford Prefect to the barman of the Horse and Groom. “And quickly please, the world’s about to end.”

One of the more influential works in science fiction for me has been The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams. I remember watching the BBC mini-series first, in school, in 1999 or 2000, ironically in German class (yes, we watched the German dub), and I have absolutely no idea why our German teacher showed it to us in the first place.

I did purchase the mini-series on DVD a few years later, and I also got an English-language copy of the book including the sequels. Thinking about it, I think I won it as a prize in some nerd competition thing, but I can’t remember exactly. A few years later, I watched the 2005 film version in cinema, and was actually slightly disappointed (I rewatched it since then, and it’s okay). Starting around 2009 or so, I got my hand on a copy of the radio play, so I listened to that on my way to work and back and then relistened to it for literally months. I now actually consider the radio play to be the best rendition.

One scene I vividly remember is Ford Prefect bringing Arthur Dent to the nearest pub, all while Arthur Dent’s house is about the get demolished to build a bypass. Arthur and Ford then proceed to have 3 pints of bitter each as a muscle relaxant and to cushion their system going through the matter transference beam Ford uses to flee onto one of the Vogon ships in Earth orbit shortly before Earth gets destroyed to make way for a hyperspatial express route.

This particular scene was probably my first exposure to British beer culture. Pints, drunk in a pub, poured through a handpump from cask into dimpled mugs. And then them quickly downing 3 pints each, which looked a bit absurd but also somewhat impressive. To refresh my memory for this blog post, I actually rewatched the scene, and there’s obviously been some prop trickery involved, because at some point, Arthur Dent downs two thirds of a pint in about 3 seconds without actually swallowing any meaningful amount of liquid.

Scene from the BBC mini series, showing Arthur Dent (Simon Jones) and Ford Perfect (David Dixon) standing at the bar and waiting for pints of bitters, poured through a beer engine and served in dimpled mugs.
Scene from the BBC mini series, showing Arthur Dent (Simon Jones) and Ford Perfect (David Dixon) standing at the bar and waiting for pints of bitters, poured through a beer engine and served in dimpled mugs.

The beer served in the pub (Horse and Groom in the book, Red Lion in the BBC mini-series), at least what’s visible in the TV version (and only because the pump clip was turned sideways, towards the camera), was Tamplins Bitter. Tamplin & Sons was a brewery based in Brighton, founded in 1821. By 1953, Tamplin & Sons had taken over a number of local breweries both in Brighton and nearby Lewes, and owned about 400 pubs, when it itself was acquired Watney, Combe, Reid & Co. The brewery operated for 20 more years, when brewing on site ceased, but the brand Tamplins seems to have stuck around for longer than that. The Brewery History Society has more details.

Another tap that can be seen is what looks like Ben Truman Export Draught, but sadly, no beer is poured from it. I suppose you had to order by name.

Ford slapped a five-pound note on the bar. He said, “Keep the change.”

“What, from a fiver? Thank you sir.”

The book was published in 1979, while the TV series was aired in early 1981. At the time, the average price of a pint of bitter would have been 34p (1979) resp. 49p (1981). Paying for six pints, the change would have been 2 to 3 quid, depending on which year you assume. Consulting the BoE inflation calculator, these pints would have been fairly cheap compared to the beer prices we’re used to today: 34p in 1979 were the equivalent of GBP 1.65 in March 2025, while 49p in 1981 would amount to GBP 1.86 in March 2025.

The bar in the 2005 film version, with keg taps of Kronenbourg 1664, Guinness, Strongbow and Carlsberg, and pump clips advertising Fuller's London Pride, Fuller's Chiswick Bitter, and a third beer where only "AK" is really legible (possibly McMullen AK?). One man is stood behind the bar (Albie Woodington), and a woman (Su Elliot) is sat leaning against the bar.
The bar in the 2005 film version, with keg taps of Kronenbourg 1664, Guinness, Strongbow and Carlsberg, and pump clips advertising Fuller’s London Pride, Fuller’s Chiswick Bitter, and a third beer where only “AK” is really legible (possibly McMullen AK?). One man is stood behind the bar (Albie Woodington), and a woman (Su Elliot) is sat leaning against the bar, with a plate of sandwiches in front of her.

Now let’s compare the TV mini-series with the 2005 film version: there, the choice in beer is much more varied, with Kronenbourg 1664, Guinness, Strongbow (a cider) and Carlsberg available from keg, and three more beers from cask, in particular Fuller’s London Pride, Fuller’s Chiswick Bitter, and one where I can only recognise “AK” on the pump clip (possibly McMullen AK? at least the colour scheme would roughly match up).

Ford Prefect (played by Mos Def) comes in, and in a broad and very rhotic American accent, says “six pints of bitter and quickly, the world’s about to end!”, pays with a 50 pound note, and tells the barman to “keep the change, you got about 10 minutes to spend it”.

Interestingly, the beers that are served to Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent (played by Martin Freeman) are quite inconsistent. The first one Ford quickly downs (and subsequently apologises for) looks like a pale lager, while the first one held by Arthur looks like a dark amber bitter. Two more pints lined up for them are also amber-coloured, but much paler (this may be due to the lighting and/or the red towel they’re stood on, but I’m not 100% sure). And worst of all, Arthur leaves without drinking a single pint!

Ford Prefect (Mos Def) drinking a pint of pale beer, with Arthur Dent (Martin Freeman) looking at him.
Ford Prefect (Mos Def) drinking a pint of pale beer, with Arthur Dent (Martin Freeman) looking at him.
Ford Prefect stuffing his face with peanuts, while Arthur Dent hasn't even started his first. The beers sat on the bar for them are amber resp. dark amber.
Ford Prefect stuffing his face with peanuts, while Arthur Dent hasn’t even started his first. The beers sat on the bar for them are amber resp. dark amber. The best in front of them are all in nonik glasses.

What is going on here? Not just different beers poured when only “six pints of bitter” were ordered (what barman would do that?), but also poured rather inconsistently, with one of them very underpoured, and atypically for the West Country of England. To quote the Simpsons, “Boy, I really hope somebody got fired for that blunder.”

When we look at how much Ford Prefect gave (50 quid), and how much an average pint cost in 2005 when the film was released (GBP 2.13), the tip of presumably GBP 37.22 is even more generous than in the TV series. FWIW, GBP 2.13 in 2005 are GBP 3.71 in today’s (well, March 2025) money. On top of that, Ford also pays for “a round of drinks for everyone, on me.”

Bonus: before going to the pub (for which no specific name is used in the 2005 film version), Ford Prefect bribes the construction workers with cans of John Smith Extra Smooth, bottles of Cobra and packs of peanuts (which he seems to have brought for himself and Arthur) to temporarily halt the demolition work.

Construction workers in hi-viz picking cans of John Smith Extra Smooth and bottles of Cobra from a shopping trolley.
Construction workers in hi-viz picking cans of John Smith Extra Smooth and bottles of Cobra from a shopping trolley.

They still knock down Arthur’s house within minutes, foreshadowing the inevitability of Earth’s destruction in a few more minute’s time.

That said, I’d rather have a pint of Tamplin’s or Chiswick Bitter than a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, supposedly the “best drink in existence”, the effect of which is “like having your brain smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.”

The Session: The Best Beer I Can Drink At Home Right Now

I unfortunately missed very first relaunched Session last month as I was away on holidays. But this month, it’s hosted by Boak & Bailey, with the prompt of what’s the best beer you can drink at home right now.

Let me just say that I’m in an extremely privileged situation.

One, I live in Berlin, Germany, and I can get quality beer for a rather low price in the local supermarket, literally 2 minutes away from my flat. The selection is not super varied, i.e. mostly German industrial pale lagers, but for some choice, we have Spätis, small shops that are open late and sell beer, among other things, and often a greater variety (and at almost any time of the day) than at supermarkets.

Two, I’ve been home-brewing for over 10 years now, with a focus on lager beers in recent years, and I now am experienced enough to brew beer that I consistently like to drink even with a heightened sense of self-criticism (and self-doubt!), and I usually brew the beer styles that I cannot easily get or that interest me from a technical perspective.

Three, I have a beer fridge which I use for storing bottled beer as well as for fermentation and lagering of my home-brewed beer. So I always have a stash of a variety of beers at home.

That said, these are the best beers I can drink at home right now that I chose for each of the categories of privilege:

Supermarket/Späti beers

  • The number 1: Augustiner Lagerbier Hell. I mean… it’s Augustiner. Some people may find its slight sulphur note a bit divisive, but it’s a Berlin staple for a very good reason, in a place that previously was dominated by German Pils for decades.
  • The contender: Tegernseer Hell. People who like Helles but aren’t as much of a fan of Augustiner usually like Tegernseer a lot. Personally, I sometimes prefer Augustiner over Tegernseer, sometimes the other way around. Either way, both are great beers. Usually, it’s easier to find Tegernseer Hell in Spätis than in supermarkets.
  • The wildcard: Wicküler Pils. I consider this beer to be the better Jever. As dry and bitter as bottled Jever, but with a smoother bitterness, and significantly cheaper, too. Former neighbours of ours used to do an annual beer blind taste test among their friends. Wicküler Pils consistently came out as the best by far. That’s how I learned about the beer, and I’ve been a convert ever since.

Home-brewed beers

Just to be clear, since the question is “best beers you can drink at home right now”, I’m not listing my best home-brewed beers I ever brewed, but literally what I have in my fridge at the time of writing.

  • The number 1: the 2024 batch of my Czech Dark Lager. It is just sooo good. I wrote about this in late 2022, and even though the 2024 is slightly different, it’s just as good as previous years.
  • The contender: my 2024 Kellerbier experiment. Not the freshest anymore, and only very few bottles left, but since the bottles were always refrigerated, it kept well.
  • The wildcard: random bottles of Barley Wine that I brewed 5 to 10 years ago and kept in a crate my work room. They’re oxidised, but last time I tried one of them, it was oxidised in a good way, with lots of dried fruit and sherry notes.

Beers from the beer fridge

This is all the weird and wonderful stuff that I keep in my beer fridge. What I have in there was definitely in there at the time of writing.

  • The number 1: Krug-Bräu Lager. A insanely drinkable dark lager from Breitenlesau in Franconia. Only a few places in Berlin sell this beer (I got mine from the Ambrosetti beer shop), but when I stop there, I will usually bring one of those back home, and that’s what’s currently in the fridge.
  • The contender: Thornbridge Nouveau, brewed in collaboration with BRŁO brewery, a DDH Session IPA. Funnily enough, this was a free sample handed to me at the booth of Totally Naturally Solutions at BrauBeviale last year, as two of their products (hop extracts) were used in brewing that beer (hashtag not an ad). I’m usually not someone who often drinks pale ales or IPAs, but this one was pretty amazing when I had the first of two cans they gave to us.
  • The wildcard: Goldfinger Danube Swabian. When Tom Beckmann, who brewed a historic Vienna Lager with malt made by Sugar Creek Malt using some of the historic descriptions of the malting process from my book, handed me a four-pack of that beer last year, I drank three of them and thoroughly enjoyed them, but I just can’t bring myself to have the fourth and last one.

The Session: Where I’m At

It’s been a while since the last Session. This is a special edition for The Event, kindly initiated by Alistair Reece. Remain Indoors.

I’ve been doing fine for the last 7 weeks. My company decided to implement a work-from-home policy (I’m privileged to work in IT as a software developer) on March 12, so it’s been pretty much exactly 7 weeks since this has started for me. In some ways, it was perfectly timed, as my wife had to undergo a knee operation around the same time, so it was actually good that I could work from home and be able to care for her as well.

The first time leaving the house has actually been stressful. One thing that I’m annoyed about are people who don’t care about keeping their distance or blocking a whole lot of space by needlessly hanging around outside in larger-than-legal groups. This didn’t just use to be annoyance, but rather anxiety. Mind you, this was at a time when I didn’t have a a home-made face mask (thanks, mum!). With a face mask on, I’m now feeling perfectly happy and content walking outside, even with people not keeping their distance. Even if they might not be effective, they sure do work for me at least on a psychological level.

As for beer, we were shopping wisely and bought two crates of beer from a local specialty beer shop before any lock-down measures were even announced. These two crates kept us going for quite a while. I did a quick count of how much other booze we had in the house, easily more than 40 bottles of all kinds of whisk(e)y, more than 10 types of gin, several rums, and even absinthe, vodka and fancy calvados. I put together a list in my mind of small beer businesses I wanted to still have around when this is all over, and supported them by either buying their beer, or buying vouchers from them if they offered such a thing.

My drinking has actually gone down. I don’t drink for the most of the week, and only a bit during the weekend. If I have 3 beers on one of these days, it’s already unusually much. Yesterday was such a day, as my Stammtisch has a Zoom session full of beer drinking and pub quizzing and discussing craft malts and their importance for historic beer styles, so I had three beers (Wicküler Pils, Neder Schwarze Anna, Schönramer Pils) and two small whiskeys (Koval Rye).

Stammtisch. I used to meet friends once a month for a few beers in one of the best German beer bars of Berlin, Foersters. We had a Stammtisch scheduled for March 12, but decided to move it to a Zoom call instead. We’ve kept this up, and actually met more often that we do normally, once every one to two weeks. It certainly helped me keep sane, and due to the decentralized nature of it, we’ve been able to include former regulars and friends that now live in other parts of Germany or the world.

Most of my beer writing energy has actually been going towards my upcoming book about Vienna Lager. I’m now in the final stages: I have only a few small gaps to fill, I have the printing layout set up, and a solid idea for a book cover, less beery per se but rather a nice homage to the city of Vienna itself. I’m so absolutely excited about the whole topic, as I found out so many things that have never been discussed in the context of the history of Vienna Lager, so many things that are just misrepresented and have even been forgotten. At the moment it seems quite realistic for me to publish the book in June or early July. It’s going to be kick-ass if I may say so myself.

That said, work itself has been hard-going at times. Not everything is great when you’re just sat at home for most of the time, trying to avoid distraction is hard, days just blend into each other, and you barely realize what day of the week it actually is. Weekends just pass super quickly and don’t really provide as much rest and recuperation as I would like them to do.

But in the grand scheme, I’m still doing fine.

My Discomfort Beer

This is my contribution to Session 119.

Unlike German, Austrian, British or American beers, I, for whatever reason, always found Belgian beers to be less approachable. Not that they were bad or anything, but I was actually intimidated by the various beers, supposedly big names, of all these different styles. So it took me a while to actually get into Belgian beer as such. Styles like Gueuze and Flanders Red Ale was actually  what I could cope with the best, and eventually, I also started to understand and like the spicy, peppery notes of Dubbels, Tripels and Saisons. But there was this one beer that took me a long while until I actually got to try it: Orval.

I had bought a bottle at a local craft beer store, and drank it at home. I found it odd, quite bitter, not really balanced, but at the same time I thought, hey, everybody says this beer is so great and special, so I ought to enjoy it. But it still struck me as weird. Since I knew that the beer gets bottled with Brettanomyces for secondary fermentation, I blamed it on the beer being too young why it wasn’t quite right, but I didn’t really know. In any case, I did not really enjoy the beer.

Only several months later, I got my hand on it again, this time a bit more aged: there’s a chain store not far from where I live, specializing on traditionally  manufactured, durable products, and they also happen to have some beer, amongst it Orval. The bottles at the time had been bottled for about 6 months, so my concern of that last time, the beer being too young, should not be a problem anymore.

So I tried it, and… it was different. This bitterness was still there. But it was embedded into more funkiness and a slightly sour undertone, and that actually made it enjoyable.

Around that time I had also brewed a historic porter recipe (1831 Truman Keeping) according to Ron Pattinson’s Home Brewer’s Guide to Vintage Beer, including a secondary fermentation with Brettanomyces claussenii. After about 5 months of secondary fermentation, I first tried the beer, and I was overwhelmed: what a fantastic beer! Full of roasted notes, mostly coffee, which were complemented by a great hop bitterness (the amount of East Kent Goldings hops in that recipe is insane), and a slightly sour and funky note.

And it didn’t even hit me at first: the sour and funky notes were exactly what I had gotten from the Orval earlier. It literally took me several days to realize that, and even longer to get a deeper connection: Orval may be an imitation or at least be inspired by British keeping beers, in particular stock pale ales. Since I had never had any stock pale ale, this was merely an idea, and I laid it aside until I’d have the time to brew one by myself: after all, Ron’s book is full of recipes for it.

In December 2016, I then got my hand on a bottle of Goose Island Brewery Yard Stock Pale Ale. This beer was brewed in collaboration with Ron Pattinson, and based on 19th century stock pale ales. I was excited, because if there’s one person that would make sure the beer’s grist, hopping, wort production, fermentation and maturation would be as historic and authentic as possible, it would be him. Finally! A stock pale ale! The beer was a revelation in some ways, but then, it was exactly like I had imagined it would be. Light, refreshing, slightly sour, earthy, funky. Refreshing, that’s something you won’t hear often about an 8 % ABV beer.

After finishing the bottle, I began to think back, and I remembered Orval, and how my second bottle of it was. I didn’t make a direct side-by-side comparison of both beers, but the overall character, the aroma, the flavours, the sourness, that was something that I remembered as very similar if not pretty much the same.

Having a proper stock pale ale actually made me appreciate Orval more, and what I had first considered to be weird was actually a fantastic beer. It also expanded my understanding of Orval: in the end, it’s a stock pale ale, made to a standard like pale ale used to be produced 150, 200 years ago, with characteristics that made it highly priced at that time.

I think there should be more like this around, but they’re not really fashionable at the moment. But I will certainly be brewing beer like that at home. Maybe not up to 8 % ABV, but with similar hopping rates and the same secondary fermentation.