The Perils Of Home Brewing

   So, having restarted making my own beer, about a decade or so back now, I noticed what complete bollocks many people talked about it.

  One of the most laughable, and yet held to be a god sworn truth, was that ye absolutely Had To stick a fucking air lock on ye fermentation vessel!

  There'd be these fucking loons, on home brew fora, gravely intoning to newb's that it they didn't securely fit a " Bubbler " to their bucket lids, they'd have four horsemen outside their place.

  All this shit passed on with the sage air that, " I've been in this game for three years now. I know my shit! " Fucking idiots!

  Commercial breweries ferment batches the size of small swimming pools. In what Are, effectively, small swimming pools! No lids, let alone stupid little air locks.

  Back in the day, when I first started home brewing, we'd ferment in what ever five gallon, plastic bucket we could get our hands on.

  And we'd chuck a towel over it, to keep shit out. Dust and flies. Shit like that.

 Anyway, for about five years now, I've had the privileged ownership of two, gorgeous stainless steel fermentation bins.

  Lovely things they are. All shiny and good. Come with clip onable lids with a rubber, internal grommet. And a small hole in the lid.

   I imagine this is to allow the gasses to escape. Otherwise, ye'd have a fucking pressure cooker situation!

  Either way, I've always made a point of just popping a small, inverted jar over this hole. No air tightness about it. As ever, just to stop any flies or ~ god forbid! ~ a stray mouse getting in there.

 Never had a bad brew in these five years. And I brew on a constant roll over. I rest my case.

  Other week though, I went in there, to get a pint. (I pour mine directly from the fermentation bucket) And I saw a beige coloured ring around one side of the bottom of my jar.

  I thought how unusual it was for my brew to ferment so vigorously as to foam up through the hole, these days. Then I noticed how uniform this stuff was.

  My brain having got passed the surprise and my eyes adjusted; To my horror, I realised it was a fucking great Slug!!!

 Good three incher! Wrapped around the bottom of the jar! (We all know how slugs like beer)

  Well, pretty revolting. But, I never gave it too much thought. I just flicked him off with my knife and carried on.

  Next night? He's back! This I consider taking the fucking piss. So I cut his head off.

  I'd often considered the horror of drinking four gallons plus of beer from one of those buckets. Then finding the bloated body of a mouse, when I came to clean it.

  But, a slug? And I think of that poor kiddie, in Australia. Ate one, for the beer induced craic, while having a laugh with his mates. 

And wound up a dribbling, rolling eyed fucking vegetable. Strapped into a wheel chair as his brain turned into skull soup!

  Imagine, cleaning the vessel ye'd drunk a load of beer from; And finding a fucking great Slug had been in there, all that time!

  " Fuck! Where did I put my glasses? ..... Hang about! Is this a simple lapse of concentration ~ or the very first sign that my brain's irreversibly turning into mush?! "

  *Shudders!!!*