I’d been dabbling in the whiskey business for some time, without success. To be honest, the stuff was potent, but undrinkable. Even the winos declined it.
I call my recent batch ‘Viva la Revolution’, due to the financial downturn and subsequent unrest. The title seemed appropriate.
I met a bloke in a pub, a shady character, who bought a dozen bottles for a tenner. He came back a few days later, wanting more.
Curious, I asked him why.
He explained that nearby was a dingy squat, where he and his collaborators were stockpiling Molotov cocktails.
“The revolution is coming, Brother!”