Who
is the greatest boozer of all time?
We’re slowly finding out. After selecting sixteen of Western Civilization’s
most notorious boozers, we’ve narrowed the field by two—last month
we saw Ernest Hemingway handily dispatch the badly mismatched Edgar Allen Poe,
while Dorothy Parker craftily scored a stunning upset over heavyweight opponent
Orson Welles.This month features a clash of dispsomaniacs
and dandies, the rotund versus the romantic: tournament favorite Jackie Gleason
attempts to roll over Lord Byron and W.C. Fields collides with dark horse F.
Scott Fitzgerald.
The
Rules
1.) A coin toss determines who orders
the first round.
2.) The opponents will then take turns
ordering rounds of whatever alcoholic beverage they wish.
3.) A drinker must finish his drink within
ten seconds of his opponent finishing his or face disqualification.
4.) The contest will continue until a
contender loses by Passing Out (a PO), by being unable
or refusing to continue with the contest (a Technical Pass
Out, or TPO) or vomiting into the referee’s
bucket (a VO).
5.) Opponents can speak to each other,
but cannot make physical contact. Contact will result in
disqualification.
Table Side Announcers:
Howard Cosell and Sir Laurence Olivier
Ref: Bill “The
Fox”
Foster
Bout
#3
Jackie
“The
Jolly Juicer”
Gleason
Vs.
“Drunk As A”
Lord
Byron (Odds: 8 to 1 in favor of Gleason)
Tale of
the Tab
Gleason
A lot of handicappers have already picked Gleason to
win the tournament and you can’t blame them. Jackie
can not only belt down booze by the bucket, his vast
range of tastes presents a near
impenetrable defense, not to mention a multi pronged offense.
His only weakness is his boisterous overconfidence, which
sometimes manifests as a lack of preparation.
Byron
The feisty clubfooted Englishman dominated the sport of
drinking during the 18th century, but how will hefare
against the new breed of tipplers? While capable of drinking
nobles and nobodies under the table at will, his quick
temper has served to get him thrown out of more pubs than
he can remember. The Byron camp knows Jackie will have
probably went out for pre-victory cocktails the night before
and Gleason has been known to fall asleep under the weight
of heavy hangover. If Byron can sing him a lullaby in the
right key, he may be able to unlock a brilliant upset.
The Build
Up
Howard Cosell: Jackie is blustering
with charm as always, but by the shadows under his eyes
I think he had a long night.
Laurence Olivier: He’s trying
to cover his weakness with wisecracks, but rumor has
it he was still up and drinking two hours before the
match.
(Byron wins
the coin toss.)
HC: What
we have here is a classic contest of the old school versus
the new. A product of the 20th century, Jackie has experience
with a much wider range of drinks, but Byron may be able
to sneak in a few 19th century bombs that Jackie has never
even heard of.
LO: Well,
Howard, nobody was surprised last month when 20th century Hemingway trounced
19th century Poe, but this time anything can happen. I’m expecting
the unexpected.
Round
One
Byron orders two A. de Fussigny Cognacs.
HC: A
sound opening maneuver. Gleason doesn’t mind cognac, but he doesn’t
love it either.
LO: Gleason
shows disdain for the choice, making the “snooty-snooty” gesture
by pushing up his nose with his finger, then tipping down the excellent
cognac immediately thereafter.
HC: Sighing,
“Pearls before swine,” Byron sighs, swirling
his snifter then drinking it down on the six count
LO: Jackie
expands the snooty gesture into a pig snout and points at himself with
mock disbelief.
Round
Two
Gleason orders two McCormick’s Whiskeys.
HC: Jackie,
knowing his opponent lived in the upper stratosphere of society, is apparently
trying to deal him a proletarian blow below the belt.
LO: He
hasn’t done his research, Howard. Royal blood may run through his
veins, but Byron spent most of his life running amok and living as ribald
a life as Gleason. Jackie motions to Byron to clink glasses, and they
tip them, Jackie’s pinkie extended.
Round
Three
Byron orders two hot toddies.
HC: The
Lord sticks with the brandy, but mixes it up with tea, honey and lemon.
LO: He
must have detected the fatigue in Gleason’s face, he’s attempting
to put him to bed.
HC: They
tip them down and Jackie immediately yawns, stretches and lays his head
on the table.
LO: And
pretends to snore.
HC: The
crowd loves it. The ref shakes his shoulder and Jackie jumps up, looking
around wildly. He’s playing jester to Byron’s royalty.
Round
Four
Gleason orders two Lords A Leapin’ shots.
HC:“He’ll
be leapin’ for the bucket any moment now,” Jackie informs
the audience, and downs his shot with a flourish.
LO: Byron
follows suit with a smile. Jackie’s antics has yet to make a noticeable
impact on his opponent.
Round
Five
Byron orders two glasses of Fat Bastard Shiraz.
LO: He
takes Jackie’s jabs—
HC:—and
counter-punches with a cruel hook of his own.
LO: Jackie
bugs his eyes and gapes at his belly, which he distends until it fairly
lays over the table. This is turning into a clash of clowns.
HC: Enjoying
a communal laugh, they take their time with the wine.
LO: They’ve
sparred magnificently, and now they’re both searching for new angle
of attack.
Round
Six
Gleason orders two Peg Leg cocktails.
LO: Shocking!
HC: Indeed.
Gleason obviously didn’t order them because he likes fruity rum
drinks, he’s—
LO: He’s
jumped up and proceeds to limp around the table. Byron sits and smiles,
but it is a thin smile indeed. He stares at the drink for a moment, then—what’s
he doing?
HC: He’s
taken off his special shoe. He pours in the cocktail and drinks it down.
LO: Brilliant
counter! If Jackie doesn’t stop clowning he’s going to blow
it.
HC: His
corner is screaming blood murder and Jackie waits until the seven count
before lunging at his drink and downing it on the ten.
LO: Had
he been a split second slower he would have been eliminated. His clowning
may cost him the match yet!
Round
Seven
Byron orders two Lord and Lady Cocktails.
HC: It’s
no guess what Byron’s getting at. After Jackie’s close call
at the end of the last round, Byron’s going to encourage his opponent
to goof his way right out of the tournament. Will Gleason take the baited
insult to his manhood?
LO: Not
likely. Gleason was not adverse to acting in drag.
HC: You
wore drag yourself.
LO: Yes.
HC: Sometimes
even on stage, I hear.
LO: What
are you—
HC:“At
least he thinks I’m a lady,” Jackie quips in falsetto, draining
to his drink rather daintily.
LO: He
stays in his chair this time though. What did—
HC:Byron
nonchalantly winks at his opponent, and finishes his.
Round
Eight
Gleason orders two original cocktails: double vodka, Blue Curacao
and pineapple juice. (He also buys a round of the same for the house.)
LO: He’s
pulling some sort of ruse.
HC:Gleason
stands up and offers a toast to the audience, ignoring his opponent. “I
call this libation the Lord Byron,” he announces. “It’s
fruity, blue-blooded and if you drink enough five of them you’ll
start walking around like a gimp.”
LO: The
crowd roars with laughter and Byron steams. Jackie apparently has done
his research, I believe he’s trying to revisit Byron to his most
reviled days, when he was a young boy, taunted daily by his classmates.
HC: Jackie
sits in his seat and stares coolly across the table at flushed face of
Byron. The Lord is trembling with a barely contained rage!
LO: Jackie
sinks the cocktail then belches crudely in Byron’s face. Byron is
twitching now. “How dare you belch before a gentleman,” he
snarls.
HC: Jackie
replies, “Oh; I’m sorry your majesty, I didn’t know
you wanted to go first.”
LO: Five!
Six! Byron lifts his glass with a trembling hand and—
HC: Throws
it in Gleason’s face!
LO: Jackie
manages to catch most in his mouth! Byron has disqualified himself.
HC: The
clown set off the powder keg and blew himself to victory!
Gleason
wins by disqualification.
Post Fight
Interview:
Gleason: “I was starting to think
that leg was hollow, so I had to snap his girdle a little.”
.
Byron: “I’d rather drink a
wine cellar with the Devil himself than take other sip
with that lout. A gentleman is judged by his company and
that is a judgement I could not bear.”
Bout
#4
W.C.
“Tore Up From The Floor Up”
Fields
Vs.
F. Scott
“Kid Sot”
Fitzgerald
(Odds: 12 to 1 in favor of Fields)
Tale of the Tab
Fields
A fanatical trainer, Fields is known for his extremely
strict diet of two quarts of liquor a day. The caustic
contender has little patience for lightweight drinkers
and less for cocktails. He likes to jab at his opponents
with beer then finish them off with a flurry of the hard
stuff.
Fitzgerald
Drinking with Fitzgerald is like rummaging through a wino’s
pockets—you never know what you’re going to
get. Emotions play a crucial role in his drinking: if the
upbeat persona that matched Hemingway drink for drink in
Paris shows up, he’s a match for anyone on the board;
if the melancholy drunkard shows up, he may fade after
a couple.
The
Build Up
HC: Oh
Christ, Scott’s already drunk.
LO: Well,
there’s certainly something wrong with him. Perhaps
he’s one of those athletes who believes in training
right up to the day the competition.
HC: Right
up to the hour, it would seem. Look for W.C. to go for
a quick knock-out, he doesn’t take Fitzgerald seriously and won’t
want to waste any time with him.
LO: If
Fitzgerald can manage to swing his mood, however, Fields may have a surprise
coming.
(Fitzgerald
wins the toss.)
Round
One
Fitzgerald orders two champagne cocktails.
LO: Perhaps
Fitz is trying to brighten his mood.
HC: Look
who’s stepped into his corner! His old pal Hemingway.
LO: He’s
whispering in Fitzgerald’s ear, but is Fitz listening?
HC: W.C.
frowns at his fizzy drink then lays it back. Not a favorite of his, I
take it. He’s reaching into his pocket.
LO: It’s
a flask. He has a belt to wash down the bubbly. “Snake bite medicine,”
Fields drawls. “I was bitten by a snake just a moment
ago.”
HC: I
haven’t seen any snakes, have you, Larry?
LO: He
must keep it in his pocket with his flask.
HC: Hemingway
nudges his friend and Fitzgerald, as if waking up from a dream, picks
up his glass and and drains his champagne on the seven count.
LO: He
appears lost.
HC: I
can’t see him lasting another round.
Round
Two
Fields order two double shots of well whiskey.
HC: Fields
is skipping his usual beer warm up, going right for the haymakers.
LO: Fitzgerald
sniffs the shot and wrinkles his nose. “I thought Prohibition was
over,” he quips, making a reference to the poor quality of bootleg
liquor, then knocks it back. Has he revived?
HC: Fields
fires back, “There’s no such thing as bad whiskey. Some are
just better than others.”
Round
Three
Fitzgerald orders two Malibu and milks.
LO: I
suspect Hemingway told him to order that. A master strategist, Hem has
probably studied Fields inside and out.
HC: Fields
has a smell, remarks he wouldn’t feed it to his dog,
then promptly knocks it back. And out comes the flask for
a chaser.
LO: He
has a system. F. Scott sips his down, finishing on the
nine count. And now it’s Fitzgerald’s turn to reach inside his jacket pocket
for something. Has he brought his own supply as well? Will he throw Fields’
taunt right back in his face? Good God, it looks like—
HC: A
book! A bartender’s bible, most likely. Is he finally
getting into the game?
LO: That’s
no drink guide, Howard. That’s Shakespeare. Lord
help him now.
Round
Four
Fields orders two double well rums.
HC: Fields
isn’t wasting any time. “All roads lead to rum,” he
quips, then knocks his back like so much water and—this is ridiculous—chases
the hard-liquor doubles with whatever’s in his flask.
LO: Fitzgerald
would be insulted if he were paying attention, but his nose is buried
in the book. Hemingway nudges him again and F. Scott absentmindedly picks
up the shot and—heavens!
HC: He
almost spit it back out! He must have thought he was still working on
that Malibu and milk. His cheeks bulge and the ref steps up with the bucket!
LO: He
manages to get it back down! But he does not look well.
HC:W.C.
offers Fitz his flask to chase the rum. F. Scott takes a belt and promptly
spits it out on the floor. “Vodka!” he gasps. Vodka!”
LO: “It
was a Russian snake,”Fields replies. That was certainly a dirty
trick.
HC: Fitzgerald
gets unsteadily to his feet. “O God, that men should put an enemy
in their mouths to steal away their brains,” he shouts. “That
we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves
into beasts!”
HC: And
off he goes! F. Scott has flapped off out the door much like a insane
seagull. This can’t be good for the sport.
LO: All
Hemingway can do is shake his head. He trades a stare with Fields. It
won’t be pretty when those two meet.
Fields
wins by disqualification.
Post Fight
Interviews
Fitzgerald: “First you take a
drink, then the drink takes you. I was trying to outrun
it, that’s all.”
Fields: “That’s the problem
with drinking with sensitive types and small bottles
of whiskey. They both have the nasty habit of running
out on you.”—FKR
Next
Bouts
Bout
5: Charles Bukowski Vs. Dylan Thomas
Bout 6: Richard Burton Vs.
Winston Churchill
