The picture at the top there shows my mortal enemy and life partner Michael Dorey with a Corona. I hate Corona. Let me open this review by being very clear on that. Two stars is such an incredibly generous rating for what is essentially a liquidised urinal cake. I’m only giving it this much because it’s cheap. Dirt cheap. I’m rating it in this manner in the same way I would rate B&M Bargains or Lidl. I am a man of very simple values. Everything at the Edinburgh Fringe is fucking expensive and I mean that’s hardly a new opinion. Corona represents something that’s dying. Something that was once seen as eloquent and respectable but is now reserved purely for bums and alcoholics and everything in the Venn Diagram in between. That thing is bulk buying alcohol from supermarkets.
Yeah, I said it. I buy beer from supermarkets. Yeah, I don’t really see the point in paying £3 for a single Corona when I could pay £11 for 10. This kind of Makro attitude is now something that is socially unacceptable. If you’re not buying your weekly groceries from Waitrose and your alcohol from a local, ethically-sourced wine importer then you’re a heathen who should be flogged against a beam pole.
Some would say this is hyperbole. I would say I don’t understand what that word means because I’ve just drunk eleven Coronas and I’m barely able to feel the hot stove when I touch it with my right hand.
Fuck you. Fuck everything. This is barely even acceptable writing. I’m not gonna make any AdSense money from this anyway. Who reads a review of Corona? Get on with your life. Jesus.
Review by a very drunk Jake Mace.
Editor. Craft beer fiend. Scriptwriter. Amateur theatre reviewer.