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If you can write, write. Dear Vivid, I was rather disappointed with the previous issue’s article on home brewing. I read with dismay its unnecessary claims about sterilisation and use of a poncy kit. Therefore I consider it my duty to pass on a recipe from my greatgreat grandmother. No £15 kit is needed, nor any pipes, barrels or steriliser; all you need are a few commonplace ingredients. This beauty of a recipe creates an interesting alcoholic beverage; sort of winey, sort of sherryish, and a tad grainy. Enjoy. You will need: 1 1 1 4 1 1

lb Wheat (shredded) lb Large raisins lb Potatoes lb Sugar Gallon Water oz Yeast

- Put shredded wheat, chopped raisins and peeled, chopped (or even better, grated) potatoes in your washing up bowl (make sure the remnants of yesterday’s curry have been swilled out first). - Add the sugar and cover with the water. - Add the yeast dissolved in a little warm water. Stir well. - If other members of your kitchen are bemoaning the loss of the washing up bowl, transfer to a different container. A large plastic box which can then be used to store revision notes works well. - Leave the brew-of-wonder to ferment in a warm place for three weeks. (Caution: beneath the bed storage boxes may appear perfect, but waking up in a bed which is

VIVID 3rd Edition May 2008

The People Have Spoken by Gary Marriner I don’t know how many innocents I’ve killed with my mortar rounds. A US soldiers testimony, his confessions and his sounds. As he marches through the streets of Washington’s grounds. Iraq’s a bleeding nation of burial grounds. You can’t wash your hands when there drowned in blood or there’s a victim’s face covered in mud and the bodies hit the ground with a deafening thud. For the blame for this war lays not with the poor but with the whore who has a raped a nation and made every man a patient in a hospital bed. How many more will lay there dead with a veil over there head. A civil war fed by there wrong lie. A thousand mothers scream and a thousands mothers cry for their lost daughters and there lost sons. A whole generation killed by machine guns whilst we all cheer about cricket runs. So here I stand just one man, trying to fight a political ban. Israel, Iraq and Afghanistan all encourage the militia man. So here we are, the people have spoken, we are awoken and your peace is broken. And the way the moon reflects burning oil will show the world the cursed turmoil in which you embroil yourself but not for your health. For this war was designed to destroy a dictator but you became the instigator and the cremator – the western worlds worst traitor. Your attempt to turn Asia into your own fantasia failed after Korea and Vietnam and now you come back with a battering ram, Kabul, Basra, Baghdad bam bam. You knock at the door of a new world war; Islamic jihad is your fault therefore from San Francisco to Baltimore suicide is justified evermore. Bet that scared you but I will not ignore the truth, this optimistic youth will march his way to the polling booth and with his democratic voice say, “forget every dossier, run away in your Chevrolet, from new years day to hogmanay, the time is coming, we’ll hatch a way to destroy your elitist lingerie, get down on your knees, you are my prey”. Oh and Georgie Galloway’s! exuding fermenting alcohol fumes is not pleasant). - Strain and bottle. The liquid will settle and you will be left with a beautiful golden liquor at the top and an opaque sludge at the bottom. - Enjoy with moderation and a spoon (for the wheaty dregs). Happy brewing, Frances Barnes.

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