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Finding myself stuck in the house tonight with no other beverages barr tea coffee or spirits ... I've resounded myself to making a Dennis The Menace cocktail!


If none of you have tried it before get yourself:


1 nip of Rum (Morgans Spiced if you so desire)

1 nip of Peach Snapps (i know! i wouldn't drink this in any other circumstance!)

1 nip of Malibu coconut hellary!


Now put all of these in a shaker / pint glass!, pour in 1 half cranberry juice, and 1 half pineapple juice and shake, shake, shake ... or stir if you've gone for the pint glass shaker substitute!


Whoopla .. a Dennis the Menace cocktail .. albeit a screwed up recipe for one.


Mix to your tastes. I actually like more cranberry and less pineapple juice. It tastes best when you have it slightly frothy too.






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  • 1 month later...
Guest Anonymous

Rob Roy


1/2 Scotch

1/2 Italian Vermouth

Dash of Angostura


Highland Special


3 glasses of Scotch

2 glasses of French Vermouth

1/2 glass of orange juice

Add a little nutmeg after mixing

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Anybody had a 'Red turders' No sure whits in it, but it always seems to involve a Whalsa man


Red turders... Jesus wept.


I'm sure that was snakebite and black current, but don’t quote me on that.


It brings back long-suppressed memories though.


In my minds eye I see a young man in a boiler suite, aggressively egging me on to "charge hit doon!†or forever be labelled a “toonie poofter!â€


I was tempted to suggest that the ability to drink a beverage based mainly on cider and blackcurrant was hardly a suitable benchmark on which to grade a mans sexuality. Fortunately I was sober enough at the time to appreciate that such an observation would not only have been wasted on the inbred ingrate, but would have served as further proof that I was indeed some gender-bending mincer in need of a good (and probably sexually motivated) kicking.


So, I necked the drink and then another, thus avoiding the confrontation… until 20 minutes later, when a pleasant confidence, combined with a kind of righteous rage built up inside me.


I swaggered over to the fellow who’d been mouthing off and, quite of the blue, punched him in the gut. He fell to the floor and I started booting the crap out of him. I was pulled off him by two friends and we scampered away, laughing our heads off.


I spent the next several weekends in a state of abject terror, convinced that I’d meet the boy again and he’d have some crazed gang of fisherman in tow, all baying for my blood. Thankfully nothing ever came of it. I saw him years later in flints - we both studiously ignored each other.


Needless to say I’ve never drunk red turders again!

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