Us Goths like to get drunk so we can have a think about sad things and quote Rimbaud
I’m in a lot of trouble. Dunkertons have opened a cider emporium very near my house and it might just be the end of me. I had no idea that this was happening. The first I knew about it was when I got an invite to attend the opening of the establishment. Now, I’m not one to turn down a free drink, and when that drink is cider then try stopping me.
You see, I’m an ex-goth and Goths are, for some peculiar reason, drawn to cider like moths to a flame. I say I’m an ex-goth, but nobody is really ever an exgoth, just a recovering one. Having said that I was thrown out of Goth society for being too ‘glass half-full.’ I couldn’t help myself really. I was attracted to the black clothing, the late-night lifestyle and some of the music, but I was always the happy-go-lucky Goth and that is not a good look.
I’m not sure what the link between cider and Goths might be. I do remember, as a young Goth, hanging out at The Spice of Life – a Goth pub near Leicester Square. The drink of choice was cider and black. This was just cider topped with a squirt of Ribena. I presume that Goths liked this drink because it had the word ‘black’ in it? I wish that there was some better reason than this, but I think it might be the sad truth.
I suppose it also helps that cider is renowned for getting you drunk pretty quickly. Us Goths like to get drunk so that we can think about sad things and quote Rimbaud while toying with a violin. It’s how we roll.
Whatever, it’s bad news that Dunkertons have opened this place because I can almost smell the cider from home and have to drive past it every time I want to go into Cheltenham. However, hard I try I find myself on the school run, indicating right and telling the kids that I’ll “just be a couple of minutes” before returning to the car staggering under the weight of a glass demijohn of strong dry loveliness. I’m lucky though. In America demijohns are known as “growlers “and this would open up yet another embarrassing area of conversation with my offspring.
At least the names of the ciders are pretty standard – in my youth
I used to be fond of a flagon of Cripplecock, a cider that didn’t want any misunderstandings and so had a drawing of a rooster stumbling around on crutches on the front. They weren’t fooling me though.
If I wasn’t so constantly ripped to the tits on very strong cider I might do more about investigating the mysterious world of Goths. I’ve long been fascinated by how I ended up joining an organisation about whose philosophies or rules I had very little idea.
I know that Goths started in the early 80s in England. I also know that whenever you go to a hot country there is always one goth hanging around the beach awkwardly, wearing the full black regalia with his or her make-up running down their unhappy, sweaty faces.
When you get to the USA, Goths became a little more scary - they are Marilyn Manson, Emos, even the jerks who did the Columbine Massacre. Also, cider in America is apple juice - what we know as cider is hard cider.
There’s no question about it. I’ve got to make a documentary about the whole thing. How many docs have you seen about Punk? It’s time for a Gothumentary. But what to call it? Everything is in the name. If you get that right, you’re halfway there.
I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities. It’s either ‘That’s me in the corner!’ or ‘Young, Dumb and full of Glum’. I’m easy either way.
Now all I need is a financial backer. But where to start? If only there was a massively rich local who had an interest in cider and fancied joining me in an artistic enterprise that would put Goths on the map and me at the Oscars. If only…
‘I say I’m an ex-goth, but nobody is really ever an ex-goth, just a recovering one’