I swear by herbal teas…. yes, I ******* hate them

Well I don’t actually hate them but I hate what they do to people . . . don’t get me wrong… I don’t mean the beneficial effect of detoxification and purification, it’s just that on simply uttering the words ‘herbal tea’  people take on a smug self-satisfied look – holier than thou and certainly purer than thou. I’m sure that along with many men, I feel this especially when my body (which is, of course, a temple) is actually craving industrial quantities of  Wainwright’s Old Reductable or some such beer brewed to a traditional recipe guaranteed to dissolve your liver whilst making you feel wonderful, without creating the gently glowing halo which the very presence of herbal tea seems to generate. Also listen to the saintly way in which people say the phrase: semi-whispered in a ‘meek’ but certainly ‘inheriting the earth’ sort of way.

Incidentally I can’t remember ever hearing a male ordering a camomile tea . . .well, except here in our village . . . . but that’s simply because ‘una camomila’ is a euphemism for a glass of white wine . . .