Fearing that my appearance on the local television airwaves might overstimulate the local ladies, I decided to hide indoors till darkness fell. Just to be doubly safe, I donned my cowboy disguise before venturing out. These precautions were clearly successful: not a single lady recognised me. I managed to reach my chosen bar for the evening entirely unmolested.
Perhaps, like a lot of young stars these days, I should accept the price of fame, and put out for my fans, but I have to say that I value my privacy. If only today's young people could be similarly reserved, the world would be a better, or at least a quieter place. I can but hope bosoms will be unheaved in a few days.
Meantime, my in-depth investigation into the American beer business continues unabated. A nice young lady reporter had recommended the bar, which only sells 'micro' beers (that's short for micro-brewery, which, in turn, now refers to the type of product, rather than the size of the factory). And quite a lot of them too: "What would you recommend", I asked the barman. He sized me up and then said "Arrogant Bastard". Well! I mean to say! "I can't help the effect I have on women", I said, "it's not arrogance, it's magnetism".
He looked at me for a minute, then he said "no, it's a beer – Arrogant Bastard – it's a beer. You'll like it". And I did. I had several pints. "You shouldn't", he said, "it's 7.2 percent". Well, I knew that couldn't be true: draft beer at 7.2 percent? Never.
I looked it up later. It's true: it is 7.2 percent: and by volume, not by weight. Which might explain the effect I had on the ladies on the way home. Not in my fan club, they weren't, not by a long way. Let's just hope it was dark enough, and the disguise worked.
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