John Smith's is for old farts, Stella's for psychos: What your pint says about you

THE pub is a fine British institution where people come together to stare silently into the bottom of a pint glass while getting shitfaced. But what does your choice of pint say about you?

John Smith’s: you are an old fart

This bitter is catnip for know-it-alls and boring old bastards. You’re at least 50, drinking at an incredibly slow pace that would make the pub unviable if everyone did it, and sharing inane insights with the captive bar staff, eg. ‘There didn’t used to be Sky Sports, you know.’

Mainly though it’s for twats who like to sound knowledgeable about beer without the effort of joining CAMRA. You’ll complain about every other pint, which is ‘flat’, or ‘the lines haven’t been cleaned’, or it simply ‘tastes funny’, whatever that means. You are a pseudo-expert about a brand of ultra-average bitter. Well done.

Stella Artois: you are a psychopath

Sadly there’s a kernel of truth in the ‘wife beater’ nickname and the average 2022 Stella drinker is a meathead called Lee who has sleeve tattoos, a holiday home in Alicante, a BMW X5 on finance and is secretly up to his eyeballs in debt. No one else in the pub dares look at him because he once smashed up the jukebox for allegedly playing the wrong song.

Of course Stella is a lot weaker than wine, and we don’t give Merlot the nickname ‘middle class abuser’, so it’s a bit prejudiced and classist. But in the case of Stella drinkers, who gives a shit?

Coors: you are underage

The go-to for every nervous 16-year-old lad just desperate to get served. Normally paid for with a clammy £5 note they’ve been gripping tightly in their terrified fist. Or – even worse – with their topped-up GoHenry card.

Hardly anyone drinks it, but they’ve seen 12 cans for a tenner in Asda. So it must be good. Despite tasting of absolutely nothing, if they successfully buy it before they turn 18 it will taste like the nectar of the gods. Until the heartburn starts, of course. Because it’s gassy as f**k.

Lime and soda: you are a boring bastard

A popular choice for non-drinkers or recovering alcoholics, lime and soda is the dullest pint going. At least order a Coke and be bouncing off the walls with a sugar high after your third pint. 

For extra boring bastard points order one during a high-profile football match and nurse it for three whole hours. Snobs can insist on the bar staff using real lime and not the luminous green cordial. Thus you establish yourself as person of taste. Or a time-wasting Waitrose twat stopping everyone else getting served.

IPA: you are a hipster

They normally drink in wanky little beer shops which sell cans of Marshmallow Stout for £7, so when a hipster is forced to go to a real pub, they order the most obscure IPA on draft. Something called Devil’s Armpit, Intergalactic Soup or Camden Bog Monster. The names vary but they’re all f**king disgusting.

Before buying they’ll have asked to have ‘a little taste’ of all three. As if buying a pint is the most important financial decision of your f**king life.

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Kasabian and other bands who started well but went to shit

IT’S baffling how some bands are brilliant when they start out, only to rapidly descend into garbage. Like these prime examples…


Kasabian’s debut album was packed with banging tunes like ‘Club Foot’. Follow-up Empire was littered with more good stuff, so how did they end up churning out dirges like ‘Velociraptor’ less than a decade later? Copious amounts of coke probably didn’t help, along with booting out your wife-beating frontman, but maybe songs about dinosaurs are just a bad idea. ‘He’s gonna eat ya!’ Er, probably not.


Asleep in the Back was a masterpiece of dark, understated indie rock, but after a few years they morphed into commercial leviathans shitting out bland stadium-friendly anthems. ‘One Day Like This’ is their most famous song, but it’s so bland your mum sings along when it comes on the radio. Still, they were together for nearly 15 years before getting signed, so you can’t really blame them for cashing in. That’s a lot of depressing gigs attended by 11 people. 


Wales’ finest musical export – a dubious accolade – set the world alight as angry young lads from the Valleys on their 1997 debut Word Gets Around. Then just four years later they wrote the painfully pisspoor Just Enough Education to Perform. Nothing says ‘We’re rich and living in the States now’ more than songs with the word ‘nice’ in the title, eg. ‘Have a Nice Day’, and by Christmas there was that bloody awful ‘Handbags and Gladrags’ cover. Even the Welsh disown them these days.


Never before has such a pisstaking abundance of talent rotted to shit as dramatically as with these posh lads from rural Devon. Early releases Origin of Symmetry and Absolution were heavy rock genius, but by 2006 it had all gone tame and largely ignorable. Your girlfriend would still dump you to shag Matt Bellamy in a heartbeat though, which makes them even easier to despise.


Editors hail from Moseley in Birmingham, the same place as Ocean Colour Scene, so they were always likely to follow suit and turn to crap. Their debut album was fresh and exciting, but everything subsequently sounded exactly the same. Still releasing new material as recently as 2018 which nobody has ever heard. Look out for them playing a pub near you. Then don’t go.

Manic Street Preachers

The Manics flew out of the traps with Generation Terrorists and looked like they could rule the world, but by 1994 they were inflicting The Holy Bible on us and the only thing worse was reading the actual Holy Bible. Richey Edwards saw what was coming and did a bunk in 1995. ‘If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next’ was as much a warning about themselves as it was turgid rubbish in its own right.