Beer Review – Thai. P. A

Lemongrass Thai. P. A, an English beer style, made popular in India, with a Thai twist, brewed right here in Yorkshire. Is this melting pot of a beer the miracle we need to overcome a culture of fear and division and bring the world together?

No, it’s a fucking beer. But at £1.99 for 4 bottles, you can easily afford enough to temporarily forget the state of the world. I bought it from the discount bucket in the Newland Ave institution, Bargain Beers. This is the first of Decent Spread’s weekly (or whenever we feel like it) reviews of the wonders you can find there.

This is the part of a beer review where you usually find a load of poncey words about smokiness, balance, aroma, and mouth feel. Mouth feel for Christ’s sake. It’s a beer, it feels wet and fizzy in your mouth. If you’re expecting more of the same, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. I’m not a beer aficionado that can identify the specific breed of hops in a beer by smelling the piss of a man who drank it the night before. You won’t be able to regurgitate this information next time you’re in Brewdog to impress your friends, and it won’t give you any new ammunition to use in your tirade against people that like Fosters.

I’m just a person that likes drinking beer and has a good enough grasp on the English language to be able to describe the things that I taste. My first observation is a dumb one, but worth mentioning. It tastes like Lemongrass. Not just like a beer with some lemon flavouring, it has the specific taste of lemongrass. You get a nice tangy hit which fades into the taste of the beer underneath. Most IPA’s I’ve had taste pretty similar and this one is no different. It’s a decent beer with an interesting flavour in it. You couldn’t have too many because the lemongrass gets a bit much after a while but a few is fine.

It’s basically like a posh man’s Radler (like a shandy but tastes more like lemon). If you’re the kind of person that secretly likes Radler but couldn’t possibly drink it in front of their friends without being ridiculed for having the palette of a dole monkey that has the audacity to drink lager from full sized cans, rather than porter from a small can, this is the beer for you. You can enjoy an easy drinking lemony beer while lambasting your friends for not being aware of the new trend in beers flavoured with Thai curry ingredients.

As I sit here, drinking a Thai. P. A and writing this review, I feel a great sense of regret. I should have savoured it, let every mouthful sit for a while before swallowing, because I know this may be the last time. That is both the beauty and the tragedy of the Bargain Beers discount bucket. Each week, there is something new. Almost always a beer that I have never seen before, and will never see again, and always so cheap. In a week, something will replace it and all that will be left of Thai. P. A. will be a fuzzy memory. You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

Operation Ajax

How does a coup start? Usually with a tyrannical leader, severe injustice and a population that has been pushed to breaking point. Alternatively, it might start with a democratically elected leader that is ousted to boost the power of a monarch and serve the interests of people that don’t actually live in that country. That’s what happened in Iran in 1953. But before we get into that we need to roll back a few years to the creation of everybody’s favourite environmentalist group, British Petroleum.

In 1901, a British man decided that he might want to do some mining in Iran. He met with the king of Iran (it was Persia back then) and they agreed that William Knox D’Arcy would be given rights to search for petrol for 60 years, and pay £20,000 for the privilege. These days that would be around the sum of £12 million.  The king got a pretty raw deal because he was only offered 16% of any profits that the British made. By 1907, Mr. D’Arcy had transferred ownership of the oil rights into the name of the British Burma-Oil company. A year later, they hit oil.

Everybody got distracted for a while when World War One happened but in the aftermath, the world was being reorganized and Iran thought they would see what they could get out of it. They didn’t ask for much, they simply wanted a small portion of the profits from oil that was in their country. They were effectively told to do one and nothing much changed.

When World War Two broke out, Iran made the sensible decision to stay well away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t really their choice. Stalin had spent the last few years ploughing all of his resources into building massive amounts of war machines, which he now realized needed fuel. Iran had plenty, and they also had the Trans-Iranian railway that went through to Russia. So, Britain and Russia decided to invade Iran and kick out the Shah.

After the end of the war, Britain left Iran but Stalin decided he wanted to stay because he was interested in the black stuff. America decided to stick their oar in at this point because if Stalin wanted something, they suddenly decided that they wanted it as well. After a lot of pushing, they managed to get rid of Russian forces but Stalin continued backing pro-communist groups in the country.

In the post-war period, Iranian nationalism was growing in strength and people, again, started to ask for a bit more control over their own oil. Nationalist leaders didn’t trust the British to even pay the tiny amount that they did owe to Iran. They asked to audit the books of the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company (it changed names about a hundred times before it morphed into BP) but they refused. They had nothing to hide, but they just didn’t want anybody to know that they had nothing to hide. The Iranians were getting fed up of the British exploiting them, and pissed off with their government for not doing anything about it.

A prominent politician called Mohammed Mossadegh thought that Iran’s government should operate like the model of many European countries: a figurehead monarch that had no real power, with the decisions being made by the elected parliaments. Mossadegh created the National Front (not the same as the unsavoury one over here) as a way to wrest power away from the Shah, who had power to override all of the elected bodies in government. Beyond that, their main policy was the nationalization of the Oil industry. In just a few years, they’d managed to fill most of the positions in the elected bodies in government, it seemed like people wanted paying for the resources that they sold. The current prime minister was opposed to oil nationalization, so somebody murdered him. No prizes for guessing who succeeded him.

Mossadegh decided, as his first act as prime minister, he would salt the wound by pardoning and releasing the man that assassinated his predecessor.

In 1951, parliament approved oil nationalization and Mossadegh went to the British with a deal.  He was very generous to offer them a 50/50 split, considering it was 100 percent his. But the British got greedy and viewed the nationalization as a breach of contract. The USA were also a bit worried because if Britain didn’t have any sway over the oil fields, there was a chance that Russia might get a look in. The initial reaction was to impose massive sanctions on Iran.  Then they tried to fight it in the International Court of Justice but they were told they had no case there either. Since all of the legal avenues had failed, British authorities starting scheming.

The Shah was getting increasingly wound up by Mossadegh’s attempts to curb his power but to start with, he didn’t do much more than grumble.

Meanwhile, Stalin was backing a communist party in which was gaining ground, hence America’s interest. Thus, a plot to overthrow the Iranian government and replace it with something more favourable, was born. America, in their traditional style, would call it something ridiculous: Operation Ajax. Britain on the other hand called it, Operation Boot because, you know, we were giving him the boot.

We were kind enough to wait for permission before starting a coup, which the Shah didn’t give to start with. Then Mossadegh decided to dissolve parliament, giving all power to himself and his elected cabinet, leaving the Shah with no sway whatsoever. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back and the Shah gave the go ahead to the CIA who started pumping money into stirring up beef against Mossadegh.

They drew up a decree to sack Mossadegh and replace him with a General Zahedi. They got the Shah to sign it, just before he buggered off on holiday with his wife, and sent a messenger to deliver it to Mossadegh. He ignored it and all of his supporters started kicking off. The attempted coup fell flat. The Shah ran away to Baghdad and eventually managed to get safe passage back to America.

Zahedi started stomping about shouting about how he was the rightful prime minister but nobody was listening so he came up with a sneaky plan. People were already a little worried about the prospect of a communist revolution and he decided to capitalize on it. Infiltrators, hired with CIA money, were sent to the pro-communist groups to encourage them to start a revolution. They took the bait and started smashing up any symbol of capitalism they could find. Amidst the chaos, the CIA and Zahedi started the second phase of their scheme. They hired more infiltrators but this time they were sent to the damaged areas to stir up fears of the communist revolution and convince everyday Iranians that their only option was to revolt themselves and get rid of Mossadegh. Massive crowds took to the streets and battered the communists before turning on the government. By lunchtime, the army had joined them and that was pretty much it. After a tank levelled his house, Mossadegh ran off but he turned himself in a few days later. Zahedi replaced him as prime minister and he was sentenced to three years in prison and then put under house arrest for the rest of his life.

And that’s the story of how western ambitions completely uprooted the politics of a country halfway across the world. It’s a good thing that never happened again.



Open Letter

resignation-1.jpgDear me,
It gets simpler.

I can picture you now, sitting on the train with headphones in, drowning out the commute by turning up the volume. There’s a letter in your bag and you feel crazy for having written it. Recite it again, every word memorised by now-

Dear Mr….

You’ve kept it close to your chest, mulling it over every day. Mental pros and cons drifting through your day.

Why do it? You are just getting comfortable in your job, paths toward manager roles opening up to you. But when has comfort in retail been a good state for the young- for anyone. Is folding jumpers and waiting tills that alluring?

You want to leave? Do it.

And then what?

Get used to that question. It comes up a lot. But they’re right, and frankly your response is a stilted mess of maybes.

Maybe I’ll write. Maybe I’ll travel.

My advice- Get used to not knowing what you are doing and make the most of it. Say yes and you can end up anywhere. It’s simple.

It all seems uphill, doesn’t it? But you like the challenge. Keep that attitude. It will pull your naive head some interesting places, meeting people you never thought existed.

New thoughts. New opportunities.

And money? It will come and go, but you get by. You always do. Fuck it. Hand the letter over and you’ll prosper.

Call the manager. Get him over, now. Ask for a word. Give him the letter.

And that feeling? Trust me. It gets better.


Nod by Adrian Barnes (Review)

How long do you think you could stay awake before you went mad, or died? It’s probably not as long as you think. About twenty-five days. Adrian Barnes takes us through the grim lead up to this untimely end in his 2012 debut, Nod. A harsh critique of modern life, told through a simple but effective concept. Nobody can sleep. Well, almost nobody. Paul is a sleeper and each night he escapes into a recurring dream. The only sliver of hope left in this new world.

We join Paul on day eighteen. There are a few like him, mostly children. Nobody knows why and, as a reader, we never find out. It’s not important. The significance of this novel lies in its depiction of this new world and its comparison to the old one. Standing on his balcony, Paul describes a world in which ‘it’s getting harder to tell the living from the dead’. Then he takes us back to the beginning of the whole mess. What follows is a beautifully crafted study in human nature, framed by our descent into madness as sleep psychosis begins to take hold.

The first time I read Nod, I enjoyed the journey with Paul, his wife Tanya, and Zoe, the mute child that they rescue along the way. Barnes draws us into his struggle by addressing us directly. Joking with us about his situation; when Tanya scolds him, saying ‘this isn’t a game Paul, this isn’t just another one of your stupid books’, he looks to us and says, ‘she was wrong about that of course.’

Through this technique, we become like Paul. An outsider, looking in on this new reality. We share in his moral superiority because, like him, we still have our sanity. We trudge along with the hapless party. Through their interactions with a new breed of religious fanatics headed by the Admiral of the Blue. All the way to the bitter conclusion of the land of Nod.

I stumbled through that first reading with my ‘flopping head, lolling tongue and corkscrewed mouth’, arriving at the end feeling that I had missed something. The pop culture references that littered the novel had some relevance I was sure. A flicker of what Barnes was trying to say lurked somewhere in the back of my mind but it didn’t take shape until I entered the land of Nod for a second time.

At first glance, Nod is a world away from our own reality. But take a closer look and you might find that ‘maybe nothing ever changed’. It is the logical conclusion of a culture of meaningless distraction that Adrian Barnes resents so much. In his eyes, we are already there. We float along ‘gobbling down burgers from our lap’, ‘all of our faces fixed on the same goal of semi-oblivion through satiation.’ Through these criticisms, I began to get a sense of Paul’s self-righteous attitude and realised it was a reflection of the author himself.

Intellectualism has been increasingly pushed aside and Barnes sees himself as a victim of this. You need only look at the current political landscape; based on social media soundbites and cartoon characters rather than well researched arguments. ‘We weren’t a species interested in facts as such. We were more into evading or spinning them.’

Nod is his bitter reaction to the situation. Paul is struggling to gain traction with his books about the origins of language but nobody is interested. Barnes’ pessimistic attitude is apparent when Paul’s book is taken from him and used as the basis for a religious cult, taking away any intellectual value it once had.

Like Paul, Barnes has not earned the recognition that he so desperately deserves. He doesn’t even have his own Wikipedia page. He was nominated for the Arthur C. Clarke award in 2013 but fell short. The authors hope of gaining the respect that he so clearly feels entitled to are slim in light of his current situation.

He was diagnosed with terminal cancer about six months before publishing the novel. The 2015 edition of Nod includes an essay, titled My Cancer is as Strange as my Fiction. He talks about the similarities between his life and Paul’s;

‘I began to see the end of everything. I was going to slowly lose the people I love, as did Paul. Insomnia made the world insane to Paul just as my damaged brain has made the world insane to me. And this is only the beginning of the weird similarities’.

He goes on to say that even before he started writing, he ‘often cursed the real world, with its greed and hatred and lack of love’.  One of the most fascinating things about this is that Barnes finished his first draft of the book ‘a whole year’ before he fell ill. In Nod, he had created an experience that was so evocative that when their darkest hour came, he and Paul mirrored one another. It could even be called a premonition, after all, Barnes comments that both he and Paul sought help in the same Vancouver hospital.

You may notice that I have made no reference to Barnes’ other work. That is because, until I was halfway through writing this, I didn’t know it existed. In fact, I thought that he was dead. He fell victim to our lack of interest in facts or integrity. After first reading Nod, I googled his name and found an article. A tragic narrative of a man who had written a novel in his dying days, surviving just long enough to see it published. I only realised very recently that this wasn’t true. But it made a better story I suppose. It got more hits. His tragic tale had become nothing more than the ‘cultural snuff porn’ that he criticizes in his novel.

In the midst of his battle with cancer, Barnes did in fact release another novel.  The 2015 release, Satan a la mode, is likely to be his last. It is a great shame that we will not have the chance to hear more from him; If his debut was this accomplished, who knows what he could have produced had he been given the benefit of a lengthy writing career.

Nod – Adrian Barnes (Blue Moose Books, 31st October 2012) 

The Mantis Shrimp

A Mantis Shrimp has sixteen colour receptors in its eye. Big whoop. How many have you got? Three. Congratulations. You’re bare basic.

Those extra receptors make it the most advanced eye in the animal kingdom that allows the Mantis Shrimp to see colours that you can’t even comprehend. It’s also likely that they can see whole sections of the electromagnetic spectrum that are invisible to chumps like us. They can probably see UV rays and infrared. Researchers think the shrimps probably use their mad eyes for pulling birds but there is evidence to suggest other potential functions, like enhanced vision in murky waters.

As amazing as the Mantis Shrimp’s eye is, it’s not what they’re usually known for. They’re better known for having one of the hardest punches in the animal kingdom. The force that the shrimps punch gives out is about the same as being hit by a small bullet. It can reach 0-60mph in 0.002 seconds. It would definitely beat your score on that machine in the kebab shop. They’re often called, ‘thumb splitter’ because they’ve been known to cut a human thumb down to the bone. It’s rare to find them in captivity because they can quite easily smash through the glass of their aquarium, leap out of the water and Die Hard their way to freedom.

The sheer force of the inital punch is only half the story. The massive power behind the shrimp’s punch produces a bubble. The claw cuts through the water at such speed that it creates a vacuum. Water vapour starts to build up around the edge of the bubble causing the pressure to increase. When it collapses, the force causes it to implode. This produces an extremely loud sound and temperatures similar to that on the surface of the sun.

The force created by the collapse of the bubble sends out a shockwave that is powerful enough to stun and sometimes even kill their prey. Some researchers have even heard them shout ‘Hadouken.’

The energy released as the bubble pops sometimes makes a small flash of light. This is known as sonoluminesence. The light flash only lasts a few 100 picoseconds which is the same as a billionth of a second so, you can only see it on an expensive high-speed camera that you’ll never be able to afford.
On top of all that good shit, they look awesome. They’re like a giant, multi-coloured alien looking prawn with boxing gloves on. I would show you but this magazine is too cheap to print colour. So I just drew one instead.

mantis shrimp picture.jpg

By Charlotte Eling

BJL Poems- Methodology

Within the seven floors of the Brynmor Jones Library, there are over a million books.

A Sonnet has fourteen lines. 7 floors of the library multiplied by two gives fourteen.

Divide each floor into two halves. Take three dice and roll them.

Counting from the shelf closest to the elevator, the first dice will take you to a series of shelves. The second dice will take you to a section. The last dice will pick the correct shelf.

Roll the dice again.

Multiply two of the dice together and (add or subtract) the third. Count your answer in books along the shelf.

Roll the dice again.

Multiply two of the dice together and (add or subtract) the third. Count your answer in pages of the book.

Roll two of the dice.

(Multiply or Add or Subtract) the two dice together. Count your answer in lines of the book.

Write your line down.

Repeat for all seven floors of the library.

Where books are not available, improvise.

Once fourteen lines have been collected, compile them from the seventh floor to the ground.

Clip the lines to be ten syllables. (If brave enough, rearrange to Iambic Pentameter)

Then experiment.

Use lines as whole or restricted to vocabulary within.

No form of Poem is exempt.

As each line you have collected has a numerical equivalent (1-7 or 1-14) Mathematical structures are possible.

Find text in the Library (Gallery cards, conversations etc.) and force your found lexicon into them.

Find other peoples works and force your lexicon into them.

You have successfully used the Brynmor Jones Library to write poetry.

(This is not exclusive to BJL. Send your versions of poetry using this method to:


By Peter Calder.