It's not easy to make a Soho publican laugh. Even Jeffrey Bernard, the funniest, most rueful writer of our time, could never, as I recall, get Norman in the Coach and Horses to crack his face. Mine host is, however, positively splitting his sides this week. Westminster council, in its wisdom, has sent Soho licensees a circular, instructing them how to recognise patrons who may have overindulged. These, we learn, are the giveaway clues: "Listen for: disruptive behaviour; raised voices and arguments. One or more people playing to the crowd. Look out for: patrons in groups being supported by their mates; slumped in a corner with glazed eyes, or who are slurring their words."
Glazed eyes, slurred speech, slumped posture, disruptive behaviour - by God, I think we've cracked the "recognise a piss-artist puzzle". It makes one glad to have paid the council tax.
The authorities are manifestly worried about the nation's drinking problem. Unfortunately, along with idiocies like the above, they have adopted a grossly simplified approach which can be summed up as "binge drinking bad, responsible drinking good".
The problems are, in fact, more insidious, and our masters would be wiser to ask the publicans for advice, rather than hand it out. Binge drinkers make no attempt to hide their excesses. They are, as a social phenomenon, ugly - a human form of street litter. But most of them will grow out of it.
Their antisocial behaviour could be dealt with by a more generous provision of public conveniences, namely lavatories and vomitoria; relaxed drinking hours; better all-night transport; a trebling of the sin tax on alcoholic beverages; and, more controversially, the decriminalisation of tranquillising marijuana.
Alcoholics, as any publican will tell you, are a different thing altogether. They are very "responsible". But their main concern, as responsible drinkers, is to carry on drinking uninterruptedly for the rest of their lives. Whereas anyone can spot a binger by the glazed eyes, vomit down the tie, etc, it takes an experienced eye to spot a mid-career alcoholic.
Camouflage is the rule. The last thing you want is to lose your job, your driving licence, your marriage, your place in society. These are your support system. Alcoholics - the good ones - have high tolerance for the stuff. Whereas the normal drinker feels woozy after, say, the fifth drink, the alcoholic still feels good, and ready for more. Nor, unlike the non-alcoholic or the despised binger, does he show it. He can "hold" his liquor.
It's 20 years now, but how well I remember the ruses of the career alcoholic. Always get the rounds in: it's expensive, but you can push the drinking rate along and order yourself doubles. Always keep a supply at home and sneak a couple of stiff ones before going out. At lunch always take charge of the wine bottle, so you can add an inch to your companion's glass, and three inches to yours.
The real art is sneaking drinks. On the way home, find a quiet pub where you won't have to waste golden minutes queueing up and where you can down three or four quick pints. But not too many - remember the breathalyser.
At the height of my career, I could end a tutorial at five minutes before the hour, scamper through the underground tunnels of UCL, bolt down a pint in the University Arms, and be back for the next tutorial at five past. If alcoholic racing were an Olympic event, I could have qualified for Britain. Of course, the publican knew my game. I don't think the students did.
Only at the end of one's career, when tolerance collapses along with everything else, is the alcoholic unmasked. But by then the damage to himself, his family, and society, is done.
Alcoholism, not binge drinking, is the real problem. How do you deal with it? Don't ask Westminster council. Ask Norman.
