I tried the new hangover cure that actually seems to work. But after 2 beers, 3 pints of cider, a Martini and half a bottle of red, I discovered the catch!
EXTEND the night, enhance the morning.’ So goes the blurb for Safety Shot, the latest in a seemingly inexhaustible line of health drinks, elixirs, panaceas and (some might argue) snake oil that promise to soothe the symptoms of the previous night’s excess.
Because ever since early man first tasted booze, rather overdid it and woke up in his cave with a throbbing headache and sense of existential angst, we’ve all craved that one-hit silver bullet, the hangover holy grail. Something that just makes the pain disappear.
But this American import is unlike anything that has come before. ‘The big difference is that there’s nothing in the world that lowers your blood alcohol content like our patented beverage,’ says Brian John, the company’s CEO. This ‘proprietary patented formula’ claims not only to ‘boost mental clarity’ and ‘support liver detoxification,’ but actually reduces that blood alcohol content by ‘up to 50 per cent within 30 minutes’. Ye gods! If true (and that ‘if’ is doing some seriously heavy lifting), this could be massive. Immense. In fact, this is the sort of news that should be celebrated in the traditional British manner. So excuse me while I nip off to the pub, down six pints, sink a few whisky chasers, and chug a can of Safety Shot. Before returning home to write this piece, my facilities miraculously unsullied. It could even make the ‘designated driver’ a thing of the past. Topers of the world, rejoice!
But before you become too intoxicated by the untapped promise of this superpowered Safety Shot, there’s a small warning, printed in block capitals, at the bottom of the can. ‘SAFETY SHOT IS NOT INTENDED TO PERMIT CONSUMERS TO LEGALLY DRINK AND DRIVE.’ Oh. Right. Well, it’s probably for the best.
But what about the science? As someone who barely scraped a D in GCSE chemistry, I’m hardly qualified to comment. But I dig deep into the Safety Shot website, searching for any hard empirical evidence to back up their remarkable claims.
That scientific proof is opaque, to say the least. The main ingredient listed is ‘triple filtered purified water’, followed by ‘apple pectin’ and it claims to contain six different B vitamins.
Also included are a host of unfamiliar additives including n-acetyl cysteine, cognizin citicoline and synephrine HCL. ‘Safety Shot reduces blood alcohol content through several factors that help process alcohol more efficiently’, it explains.
Oh, and ‘It should be noted that every person is different. Genetics, liver health, habituation and a host of other factors can influence the rate at which alcohol is metabolized.’ Hmmm. True, but hardly enlightening.
Time, then, to take matters into my own hands. And stride out, into the dark, cold night, armed only with a thirst (for the truth, as well as a pint or two), and a couple of cans of Safety Shot.
Is this the miracle brew that we’ve all been waiting for? Or just another over-sugary concoction, slickly clad in an all too shiny suit? I start off about 4pm on a Saturday, at the house of my friend Jake. He’s looking after his children, and is more than happy to have a drinking partner.
I whip out my can of Safety Shop, and tell him, with breathless excitement, all about this drink.
As a man with a biology degree from university (albeit over a quarter-century ago), he can smell quackery from a mile off.
‘So,’ he says, eyeing the can with barely concealed disdain, ‘this drink is promising to overturn everything we know about alcohol, and its effects upon the blood and body. Without sharing their study data, or peer-reviewed research?’ He’s not convinced.
‘Surely,’ he goes on, ‘if this drink could actually reduce blood-alcohol levels by how much the company claims, it would be worth billions, and a staple of every emergency unit in the world.’
He shakes his head and goes back to watching F1.
Trying to regain some control of the narrative, I try another tack, spluttering on about Safety Shot’s ‘rigorous testing on numerous people’.
‘Do we know who they are?’, asks Jake. Er, no. How about all those ‘researchers, formulators, and scientists’ who have been involved in the development of Safety Shot for ‘several years’?
‘Show me their names’, he responds. I can’t. ‘And I bet it’s classed as a “supplement” too.’ Er, yup. ‘Well, that means the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) didn’t get involved either. Why am I not surprised?’
He goes quiet for another second. ‘Worst of all, who in God’s name would go to the pub for a few drinks while paying for something that stops you getting drunk?’ He takes a furious swig of his beer. ‘Safety, my a***.’ Luckily, though, I am made of sterner stuff. And conducting a fiercely controlled experiment for the greater good of mankind.
Giving the can a good shake, I open it, drink deeply, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Oh God. The horror! Because it’s truly vile, one of the nastiest things to ever pass my lips. And this comes from a man who has chewed raw tripe, slurped cold blood soup and eaten every part of a pig save the oink. Both cloyingly sweet, and horribly bitter, it tastes like penance and punishment, with a top note of sick. And reminds me of that antibiotic medicine you had to take as a child.
I manage to force down a whole can, much to Jake’s amusement. Then immediately start to feel a little odd. Wired. Edgy. A touch anxious. Which is perhaps down to the 400mg of caffeine (about the same four double espressos), sploshed into an empty stomach.
In fact, having drunk all 355ml, I really don’t want to do anything save sit, feeling slightly nauseous, and very strange indeed.
Anyway, two bottles of rubbish Italian beer later (why does anyone like Peroni?), we wander down to the pub, and, over two hours, drink three pints of Aspall cider. Usually, I’d feel pretty merry. My head is pathetically light, and it doesn’t take much to get me in the party spirit.
But somehow, sitting in a warm pub on a cold Saturday afternoon with my best friend isn’t quite the pure unalloyed joy it usually is. There’s a nagging, unspecified worry gnawing at my gut.
Hey-ho. Dinner next. But as I wander over to the restaurant, I still feel slightly out of sorts.
My daughter Lola is already there, and I order a martini, even though I don’t feel like drinking it. Curiouser and curiouser.
I manage another half bottle of red, before giving up altogether. Just like the pub, this simply isn’t fun. And dinner with my daughter is always fun.
I also miss the three-beer fuzz: the warm, boozy bonhomie of the shared table. I just want to go home. We leave early, and I crawl into bed, falling into fitful sleep.
Well, I wake up feeling a little less nauseous than the night before, although there are still flickers of dread. There’s no sign of a hangover, although an early night and a pint of water before sleep may have helped.
But even if I were in the throes of a hangover so biblical that Moses could inscribe it upon his tablets, I simply couldn’t drink the stuff again.
So is this the secret to Safety Shot? To make one feel so awful that nothing, let alone a drink, can ever pass your lips?
I’ve really no idea if Safety Shot’s claims about blood alcohol are true. What I do know is that I never want to set eyes on this wretched can again.
‘It tastes like penance and punishment’ ‘I feel nauseous and very strange indeed’