Broon tale

So, Newcastle Brown is (probably) off to Tadcaster. Much as I'm all for region-specific products I can't bring myself to feel anything about this, unlike the demise of Tetley. If the scary factory shown on Oz And James Drink To Britain is anything to go by, 'dog' has been made by scientists with clipboards rather than brewers with shovels since it moved over the Tyne to Gateshead in 2005. I can't remember the last time I saw anyone order a Newky, and I haven't touched the stuff in years - it tastes like cold 2p coins to me.


However, I have a bit of a history with Newcastle Brown. It was standard-issue kit when I was a footsoldier in the Grebo Wars of the late 80s. The three or so bottles I consumed every saturday at the much-missed Bradford indie club Tumblers always guaranteed a decent kip on the night bus back home. So decent, in fact, that a couple of times I woke up in the Keighley And District garage being driven through the bus washer.