Part of the trouble was that Smut had to go and see his Aunt Griselda up north for a while. The poor dear has gone all Gender Uncertain what with the legalising of gay marriage here and dogs lying down with cats and the like. We have explained to her that it probably won't be all that much of a big deal to her because of she's a 700 year old devil-squid and ate her last 20 mates, but she will not be comforted unless Smut goes up there and takes a case of Old Fergussons Rusty Blade Stout with Prunes for Health.
So he left me and Space-Time Eddie in charge of the mashing of the malt for the Labour Day Big Red Beer. He explained what we had to do with this handy chart:
Which gave Eddie a headache so he ate it. This lead us to "Patrimininous Wilson's Big Book of Beer Making" which we found at the city landfill site once. It's a bit pecked by seagulls but page 7 shows the mashing process in stark yet compelling detail.
Now, Eddie is a not multi-dimensional being who reacts well to cellar pressure, I mean he is a dab hand at "Navigational problems in the higher gravitational vortices in sector 7G" or getting through the Tannhauser gate without paying but when you say, forcefully, "Eddie give me the fecking 3 inch spanner, pronto!" he tends to get all whimpering and hand wringing.
So we were a bit worried when the Riddled Board of Directors and Associated Big Cheeses turned up for the annual tasting of the Wort.
Also Greenish Hugh is puffing coffee smells at the Big Wigs from bellows. Lord Riddled is just telling us how he cut Lord Scroop dead in The Strand whilst Smut and I make frantic hand signals to Evangeline van Holsterin's idiot boyfriend behind the curtain to let the hamster go so that Lord R will faint "Cain't abaide hamsters, doncha know" he says.
His Lordship is very interested in putting prunes into our beer but we have explained that there are religious reasons against it. Also Smut said, "these two muppets will turn it into jam".
And I'm just sayin', Beer Jam... For those "difficult" mornings.