His Kinkyship Sails At Dawn

A splash? A dash? Jiggered if I know.

A few years back, I had the good fortune to see Kinky Friedman live, reading from his books, telling protracted anecdotes with serpentine digressions (think Ronnie Corbett, only with more cigars and casual references to cocaine abuse) and interacting with his companions - Mike McGovern, Little Jewford and, naturally, the Watson to Kinky's Holmes, Ratso.

I can recall virtually nothing of the evening, due to heavy imbibation; but there's definitely a strong residual aura of pleasure regarding the whole experience - enough to suggest to me that everyone was on good form and that, although I descended into the usual verbose twattishness that is my forté once in my cups, no-one held it against me particularly vehemently.

Anyway, the point is that, all the players signed a book I had on me (The Kinky Friedman Crime Club, since you asked - excellent read, go get it post haste) and I've just happened upon said autographs. Mike McGovern was good enough therein to give me the recipe for Vodka McGovern, which I will be indulging in tonight as a form of remembrance for times past.

Of course, with so much room for discretion in the interpretation of measurements, I feel sure that what I'll be drinking will not be a Vodka McGovern per se but some derivative form. As Plato's Allegory of the Cave should show us, however, it is ever thus.

As an aside, go to the Kinkstah's website for copious information; mainly regarding, as I suppose you'd expect, the man itself.