The Gestalt Review

Being slapped quite hard on the left cheek by a terribly posh sand dune wielding three slices of lemon and a silver toothpick.

Like waking up one morning to discover that you’re a sweaty 18th-century pirate, and that everything smells horrible.

On your weekly visit to your granny’s house she gives you a ginger biscuit. Every time you visit it’s the same sort of ginger biscuit. She bought a job lot of them about six years ago, and you’re the only person she offers them to. You know she only does it because she loves you, but you’d still prefer a custard cream.

You’re lying in a meadow. There are a lot of insects around but you’re not bothered by them. You have a Thermos full of tea and some jam sandwiches and nowhere you’re supposed to be.

Like walking along an unfamiliar but very beautiful beach and coming across an incredibly elaborate sandcastle slowly dissolving into the sea.

You’re walking through a strip of pine woodland and you see a red squirrel. It doesn’t look too healthy, but it is definitely a red squirrel. It’s half past four on an overcast October Sunday afternoon, and your odd but well-meaning uncle is shooting at the falling leaves with a musket.

The first beer to cause a serious disagreement within the gestalt. Either sharp, clean, good quality knives at the end of a hard day in the kitchen of a four-star grill, or licking pennies off your aunt.

You’re in Starbucks - a weird, glossy, over-the-top Starbucks with brass details on red leather seats - and you meet a Priest. Kind of a good-looking Priest - silvering at the temples, very well preserved, a little like George Clooney - and he takes you home, sits you down and kisses you. You’re not moving your arms, but just sitting there - and then he stops, and says that it’s as far as he’s going to go. And, while it’s all very pleasant and you’re down with what’s happening, you’re disappointed that it’s not going anywhere further.

Like watching Matt Damon in an espionage-themed non-lethal shootout in a boulangerie, in which he manages to secure his love interest and escape.

This is a ridiculous beer which is quite clearly just old cans of Lilt poured into glass bottles.