Foam

A few years ago, lots of pub-goers were bitching about the fact that their beers were basically all head and very little, if any, beer. I heard reports, for example, of one aggrieved punter saying to the barmaid, “You can give me head, darling, but not my fucking pint.” As a result, no doubt, Government legislation was introduced, compelling publicans (and barmaids) to serve the full measure. Now, if you do want additional spume on top, that’s up to you, but it mustn’t be included in the advertised price of the drink.

This morning, therefore, it was with profound satisfaction that I learned that people are starting to complain about the excess foam atop their coffees, too, particularly those served in Working Class establishments. About time. I, also, would be pissed off if, whenever I went into a café, I had to equip myself with a sonar depth finder in order to determine exactly where, relative to its froth, the actual coffee bit of the cappuccino was located.

Indeed, when you think it through fully, froth on liquids is almost always regarded as a bad thing. If, for instance, you see foam on the surface of a river, the sea, or a lake, it’s usually indicative of there being something horribly iffy in the water, particularly if there are dead fish floating on the top, as well. More often than not, it’s caused by noxious chemicals, of the sort that make men grow breasts and acquire other generally unwanted feminine characteristics. Thus it must be with coffee. (And I’ll bet they have to use a sieve to get the dead fish out before they serve it to you.)

The major downside to all this, of course, is that it could encourage would-be Thai lady boys to come over here and drink our coffee in order to transform themselves, physically, so they can then earn a living sucking men off in Bangkok bi-bars. Whatever your views on the morality, or otherwise, of this, I’m sure everyone would agree that if you do want a job sucking men off in Bangkok bi-bars, you should have to pay a private physician for the requisite hormones, and not expect Costa or Starbucks to give them to you prescription-free for just £1.80 (or however much a cappuccino costs).

And besides, there will be lots of men who don’t want to go into this line or work but who, nonetheless, may feel compelled to do so, simply because of the after-effects of their latte. What other option will be open to them? Realistically, are they going to be able to satisfactorily hold down a job as, say, a quantity surveyor or stockbroker if, when they get back to the office following their coffee break, they’ve suddenly sprouted DD tits and long, black hair, and keep screeching “Suckee, suckee, fuckee fuckee!” every ten seconds or so? I think not.

Coffee, therefore, should be be priced and served without foam. If you do want a job in a gay Far Eastern flop house, that, of course, is your affair. But coffee vendors shouldn’t automatically assume that everyone does.