For five years, Lagerboy has been charging around, tasked with seeking out the pale and the fizzy. Slowing briefly to record his garbled thoughts, the restlessness soon kicks in and he moves on, to another keg-heavy bar or obscurely stocked bottle shop. CO2 powered, Lagerboy can detect the faint tingle of Saaz, downwind, from a hundred yards. He even spends three weeks a year in a cave, becoming one with the concept he worships. And now, all these years later, he has found his holy grail – Lovibonds Lagerboy.
It’s the beery equivalent of a knighthood. For services to carbonation. To bounce into his local keg-forward lagertorium and see his own name on a pump clip – well, it doesn’t get any better. It’s the ultimate honour. Jeff and the team at Lovibonds are clearly enormous fans of Lagerboy’s musings, his evangelical zeal for ‘cold and gold’. This is his reward. To be honest, what the beer tastes like is secondary – inspiring one of the UK’s most progressive breweries to design, produce and market a beer specifically for him is enough, quite frankly.
As it happens, Lagerboy couldn’t be more pleased. Hazy and golden, the beer reminded him of the dappled late afternoon sun, gently lighting a field of two-row barley. Soft, grassy on the nose – like the urge to rest awhile between the quietly rustling stalks – it sashays across the palate. Akin to a German unfiltered lager, a style which often reduces Lagerboy to tears, the softness yields to a mildly peppery bitterness. A joy. A triumph. To have inspired such a masterpiece – surely, the culmination of a life’s work.
The BeerCast has since established any similarities in name between Lovibonds Lagerboy and this poorly-written column are coincidental