Roger Moroney: A boutique brew fit for a Prince

Back in 1977 there was great rejoicing and jollity across the United Kingdom ... despite the fact that the UK is anything but united.
But during the summer of that year it seemed to be.
The Queen had been sovereign for 25 years and I was there that summer.
It was the silver jubilee ... and the hawkers and merchants and Arthur Daleys embraced it heartily.
I could not believe how many variations of tea-towel could be produced in the name of one person ... the Queen.
And mugs and cups and tea sets ... teaspoons, plaques, plates, mirrors, flags and even T-shirts by a burgeoning young musical combo called the Sex Pistols.
It had "God Save the Queen" on it ... although it looked a tad shabby.
But anyway, the street sellers and muck merchants had a field day, and I did my bit by purchasing a couple of bottles of Queen's Jubilee Ale.
Yep, even the breweries were on to "a good thing".
It was a darkish style of beer - not my favourite variety, but after chilling it to near sub-zero temperatures it went down quite well with a Cornish pasty.
I kept the other bottle, and I still have it.
When you hold it up to a very bright light you can barely see through it ... and it is rather entrancing to watch the particles of ... God only knows what ... floating about in suspension within.
It is so far past its use-by date that the Queen has racked up another 25 years since it was brewed. So it sits on a shelf.
It is one of only two items of memorabilia in the house which nods toward the Royal Family (apart from the obverse sides of the coins in my trousers).
The other is a tea-towel John Campbell sent me after taking part in a "Queen's Tour" programme. It has pride of place ... somewhere.
There was quite a buzz in the air back in the England of '77 as the land paid tribute to its Queen.
Galas and fetes and street parties ... all of which I generally avoided like the plague. It was too easy to get Union-Jacked out.
It is all happening again, of course, with the imminent nuptials of William and Kate. Which leads me to wonder ... what exactly is the bloke's surname?
Some insist it is William Wales (he is the Prince of the land of mines). Others say it is Windsor, although many say technically it is Mountbatten-Windsor.
Poor old Kate. If they go for Windsor she is going to end up with nervous newsreaders confusing her with Kate Winslet.
If she goes for Kate Wales then the stand-up comics will roll out the "what's she got to wail about?" one-liners.
The Green Party will adore her though, believing her every appearance will assist in delivering southern rights and minkes from the harpoons of the Japanese "researchers".
As for Mountbatten-Windsor ... she'll never get all that on a cheque.
But I have no interest in buying a souvenir bottle of ale (should one be brewed) for this royal outing. It has all become too delirious. Cringe-worthy.
TV1 and TV3 have sent their frontspeople to London to cover the event ... ludicrous.
More people will watch it than watched Anzac dawn services ... appalling.
Instead, I think I shall make some beer on that day and call it "No Particular Event Lager".
Once upon a time I used to make beer.
It was commonly known as "home brew" although I used to shudder at such a description.
I rather pompously called my lager efforts "boutique brewed ale".
And some of those 30-bottle batches were very good ... just like a bought one.
But oh yes, we boutique wash-house-based brewers would all say that.
The term "home brew", whilst accurate, tended to conjure up images of exploding bottles and urgent journeys to a medical centre.
At the very best you would simply think of a night spent reeling between the bed and the lav.
There was some good reason for this perception though ... for I have (on two occasions) endured the fruits of another bloke's brewing which left me in a bit of a state.
One was a state of near hallucinogenics.
"What the hell was that sharp after-taste all about?" I asked him.
"I put some sherry in with it," he replied.
So, while totally devoid of wedding fervour, but knowing William enjoys an ale, and recognising that the dear and wonderful Queen Mother used to enjoy a shot or three of sherry, that's what I shall create. I'll send him two bottles. He can drink one and put the other away.
And no, that won't be distant celebratory fireworks you'll hear as the wedding bells peel ... it'll be a batch of 2011 "No Particular Event Lager" exploding.
Roger Moroney is an award-winning journalist for Hawke's Bay Today and observer of the slightly off-centre.