Unintended Consequences In The Pursuit Of A Pint


My short series on my walk with Dad across the neck of England, reminded me of his love of beer. Boy, did Dad love a pint. Bitter not lager. What we today know as real or cask ale, not what I grew up understanding to be pisswater, aka keg beer. For a full explanation of the difference, click here. Just know that, back in the 60s and 70s keg was a dirty dirty word when applied to beer.

Post WW2 the already huge brewery companies consolidated even more, retaining massive pub estates which were ‘tied’. That meant that the only beer, and indeed pretty much all drinks and food that the publican could sell were dictated by the Brewery – most especially the  beer  and all other alcoholic drinks. It was a captive market. Breweries wanted these monopolies to continue; they hardly ever sold a pub and never to a rival.

This urge to control was helped by the fact that the number of pubs was limited by the licensing laws. These had to have on-licences – a permit to sell alcohol for consumption on the premises – and were gold dust. These were granted to the individual that ran the pub but he or she could only get the licence with the brewery’s support.

Licensing the sale and consumption of alcohol, regulating the hours of opening, these were all measures to try and stop excessive alcohol use and abuse.


Hogarth, in 1751, famously painted Beer Street and Gin Lane to represent this debauched side to London, indeed English city, life and these licensing controls were the inevitable culmination of society wanting to effect control and the  establishment’s attempts to prevent these scenes becoming the norm.

The consequence was that the breweries decided on the type and quality of beer sold. Of course they wanted beer that lasted, was  of consistent quality and easy to transport and store – cask ale is still ‘live’ in the barrel, difficult to transport and store and goes off quickly if exposed to the air. Therefore they developed pisswater, sorry keg beer which answered all of the above (erm, when I say ‘quality, that doesn’t connote high quality, just uniform). Dad loathed it but there was little to no choice.

I think one of the earliest jokes I heard to include the ‘f’ word involved keg beer. One brand of this type, a large seller in the 1960s, was from Watneys Brewery called ‘Red Barrel’.

The joke?

What is the similarity between Red Barrel and making love in a punt?

They’re both f*****g close to water.

A protest group, probably one of the first if not the first consumer protest group, emerged. The Campaign for Real Ale or CAMERA as it became known.

Through the seventies and into the 80s Camera pursued a dogged rearguard to try and force the return of more and more cask conditioned or real ale. What today are called micro breweries began to emerge. But everything was still small scale.

You see, the unintended consequence of trying to control a national descent into alcoholism – the licensing laws – created a tight constrained market and the conditions for an oligopoly of six enormous brewers/pub owners – Courage, Grand Metropolitan, Whitbread, Allied, Bass and Scottish and Newcastle. And that led to the consumers being ignored.


Mum was partial to a noggin, too

Each brewer owned thousands of pubs; they rarely sold of even closed them (because that meant a lost licence). Cross-subsidies kept unprofitable pubs trading and Britain became famous for its cosy country pubs – every town, every village having a disproportionate number – but at a price.

It couldn’t continue and it required a brash Australian and a dogmatic hater of vested interests to end this state of affairs. John Elliott, the man behind the global rise of Fosters lager through his company Elders IXL and Margaret Thatcher made strange bedfellows. They had very different motivations – a desire for self aggrandizement and profit on the side of Elliott and a distrust of embedded power elites and monopolistic business practices in the case of Thatcher (she didn’t just bash the Unions). She introduced the Beer Orders  in 1989 under which the tie between the brewer and the pub was fundamentally undermined; he created the first bespoke Pub owning company (jointly with Grand Metropolitan, called Inntrepreneur Estates) that decoupled the property value from the value of the beer tie (thus ending the cross subsidies in his group, Courage and that of Grand Metropolitan’s estate, between them owners of some 13,000 pubs).

Every pub owned by a large group had to sell a cask conditioned beer and have a guest beer if the tie was retained and only 2000 pubs could be tied anyway. As we entered the 1990s the Berlin Wall fell and the Euro project began, but the most visible impact, here in the UK, of the changes wrought in 1989 was the demise of a multitude of British pubs. Cross subsidies no longer made sense and the unprofitable inns were sold off to these new pub owning companies. It was another unintended consequence and one that changed the face of many towns and villages fundamentally.


And the Lawyer follows where his grandfather led

When I moved to Herne Hill in 1985 the Camera pressure was beginning to tell in London. One early exploiter of this pressure was Dave Bruce, a brewing entrepreneur with a passion for good beer. In the 1970s he began his own brewery – Bruce’s Brewery – to brew cask ale and started to buy up  tatty pubs in South and West London that even the resistant brewers didn’t want to keep. He launched his Firkin brand of ales, many of which were brewed in situ (thus avoiding the transportation issues) . His pubs, which had a spit and sawdust olde worlde charm, proved extremely popular. They became the model for micro-breweries today. Each one was called the Something and Firkin – Goose, Flounder etc. The one above Denmark Hill station where I caught the train every day was the Phoenix and Firkin (an appropriate name this since the pub was housed in the rebuilt ticket hall that had burnt down). There was a super strength beer deliciously called Dogbolter – believe me this was not a session drink. Best of all the bar staff wore T shirts with the best branded slogan I’ve seen:

Phoenix my pint I’ll Firkin thump him

We have moved on from Red Barrel in oh so many ways. Dad would have mourned the loss of some pubs but would have loved the microbrewery and all that comes with it. Once again that great British invention, the pint of ale is something of which even a teetotaller like me can be proud.


About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline. I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy. I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
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25 Responses to Unintended Consequences In The Pursuit Of A Pint

  1. Thanks for this. Very interesting! I’m a beer girl. I love an IPA, which, of course, travels well. But just one!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Really interesting. I remember the Red Barrel days, although didn’t have the understanding of why it tasted so bad. We pick & choose our pubs now based on the quality of beer.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. arlingwoman says:

    I didn’t know the break up of the tied pubs was so recent. Nice to know the history. Yes, bad beer isn’t worth drinking.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Mick Canning says:

    For all of the loss of pubs and the downward spiral leading to W*atherspoons, it is all worth it since it spelt the end of Red Barrel and the other vile pisswaters!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Like the history here and love the joke. It would go down well in Ireland!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I only knew the days of tied pubs, it is good to hear that things have changed (even though I’m not a drinker these days) And thanks for explaining the cask and keg thing I didn’t realise that was the genesis of some of the vile beers I did taste while sojourning in your fair land.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Mary Smith says:

    We didn’t have tied pubs in Scotland. The frst time I saw a sign in England that said Free House, I thought you had to pay to go into some pubs.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Eileen says:

    Interesting! Thanks./

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Very interesting history. I was unaware but it seems a common business practice in many areas to try and control as much as possible. I call American beer ‘bile water’ and won’t drink it if I’m in the desert. I still by imports from Germany if I can find them. We have so many new microbrews that the imports are getting harder to find here. But I’m a one beer person.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Apparently Colin Dexter put his own taste in beer into Morse and this was not the actor’s tipple

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Widdershins says:

    A modern history of the ‘umble beer! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  12. George says:

    Fascinating account! I remember Dogbolter. My band made its first trip to London to play the Rock Garden in Covent Garden. We ended up in a Firkin pub, before all sleeping on someone’s living room floor. Our drummer, who taken a shine to Dogbolter, insisted on pacing round and round the room until one of us yelled at him to lie down.

    “Lie down”, came the reply. “I can’t even stand up.”

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Charli Mills says:

    Fascinating history older than the US. Microbreweries across the states are all varied and your Dad might have enjoyed walks here, too. US beer was interrupted during Prohibition, and the drinkable “champagne” beers that returned afterward were referred to as pee-water. Go to the Pacific Northwest and you’ll find hoppy brews; go to New England and you’ll find ciders and English-styles. If bitter is your thing, chase the hops.

    Liked by 1 person

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