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The last time I enjoyed Guinness was around the age of 12 in Dublin. On return to civilization I realized it was too bitter a brew for me when Ma tried to dose me with it to build up the too skinny No.2 son. A determined woman, baulking at a daily bottle of said elixir she tried me on Mackeson.
A fortnight is all it took to reveal her error, too late by 13 days. For some years my crate of Mackeson arrived as regularly as Pa's Whitbread Pale Ale (well, during the school holidays anyway).
I do not remember that ever having the chrominance adjustment on stoolular brown that you are claiming - are you sure you are accepting the routine health service offer to post them your turds to monitor your bottom end bowel condition?
Ma was right in one regard. No one has called me skinny since.
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David V
Lord Finchley tried to mend the electric light
Himself. It struck him dead and serve him right
It is the duty of the wealthy man
To give employment to the artisan
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