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Limiting alcohol advertising spend could boost industry profits while testing the premise underlying our current approach.

Policy is often based on the assumption alcohol advertising is about battling for a share of a market of fixed size.

Cynics, of which I am one, doubt we are unmoved by the billions being spent on influencing our spending decisions.

Proving or disproving either case is nigh-on impossible, with the real world having too many complicating factors.

Accept the premise
With science offering no obvious way forward, the solution may lie taking the premise to its logical conclusion.

So, let’s say it is true, demand for alcohol is indeed immovable. It would mean nearly all advertising money was being wasted.

Most cash spent, say, promoting lager A over lager B, would be adding to the sector’s cost base for no extra income.

The route to higher shareholder returns can only lie in conducting this contest at lower cost.

Alcohol suppliers should, then, agree to cut their mostly fruitless marketing costs by agreeing a cap on advertising expenditure.

To maximise shareholder returns this cap would be best set as low as possible, allowing it to be returned as profit.

Guaranteed benefits 
There is no reason for shareholders to resist such a cap on wastage, unless the notion of having fixed market size is untrue.

A low adspend cap would also satisfy those doubting that it does not help boost overall alcohol consumption.

If the premise of current policy is right, alcohol sector’s profits will rise, if not, alcohol consumption will fall. 

Wherever the truth lies, someone would stand to benefit from putting this critical assumption to the test. ■

It was seven years ago when I first stopped drinking alcohol as background for a book, a project which significantly changed my life and my ideas.

I never intended to make my own experiences central to my work on the topic and this has not changed. I will only ever be a single data point in a story involving millions.

But I do think having first-hand experience from both “sides” is crucial to the journalistic task. They allow us to understand and describe things better.

Like many my alcohol habits have had phases at the riskier end of the spectrum. It was mostly the classic British weekly session, or two, and the odd drink dotted through the week.

I had started drinking in what I considered a “mature” way in my 30s, as many do, pouring a loosener at the end of a day at work. It might be two or three if it was a hard one.

But having an unexceptional drinking pattern does not mean change comes easily. I used alcohol as both a stressbuster and mood booster. Life was going to be rougher without it.

Each situation and hangup had to be dealt with head on as it arose, rather than being conveniently smoothed over with the silky-smooth plaster of a pint or three.

A great number of things had been summarily dealt with using alcohol. Going alcohol-free meant dealing with this backlog on top of the flow of new challenges.

Luckily for me I saw this as a work assignment, so I was okay with it not being a barrel of laughs. And my research was, thankfully, showing it should get easier in time.

In the short term I found it best to simply avoid challenging situations. Alcohol-free drinks are good cover for mingling without an interrogation from evangelistic drinkers.

But also crucial to the exercise was exploring activities beyond alcohol drinking situations. After a certain point they are, sadly, often less entertaining when experienced sober.

This resulted in no end of experiments, including cold showers, improv, leaf tea, swimming, psychogeography, VR and simulators. Alcohol was replaced by chronic dilettantism.

I noticed that my long distance running and cycling actually contributed to stress and pain I might seek alcohol to relieve. So I turned down the intensity of my sessions.

So over years my counterproductive stress-drinking has been replaced by an eclectic mix. Negative stress is now gone quicker and the buzz of occasional success is felt longer.

A few of life’s trials have come along in the interim. None of them have led me to drink alcohol again. And giving up tobacco was not a big deal without alcohol there to derail me.

The book was finished in summer 2016 after just under two years. I no longer felt obliged to continue with not drinking, but I wanted to.

I had made so much effort learning to live free of alcohol, which I’d also learned was counterproductive. It would be a massive waste to return to drinking, so I didn’t.

Another three years or so passed and I did not touch a drop. I simply did not want to. But then I got interested in the taste, so had the odd tiny alcoholic drink.

And that’s more or less where I am. Once or twice I have had a strong craft beer and felt a mild psychoactive effect. To my surprise I found I disliked it. 

Something I once saw as a universal balm for my worries now makes me feel like I am coming down with a cold and aware I am talking too much. And I feel annoyingly agitated.

So there is no epic struggle needed to resist drinking more. I drink a tiny measure to taste it and leave it at that. I stay well away from the unwanted effects. 

No doubt I am shaped by years of covering the subject. So, I would not recommend this very low-level dabbling as an objective for anyone.

And it helps to rethink freedom too. It now does not involve disabling my brain, harming myself in obedience to social convention, or relying on a sedative to quash stress.

If there is a health objective which might be more universal, it is to look after our brains as best we can. It is our biggest asset. This, for me, means no alcohol bingeing at all.

If I feel like I might go against this objective, I will simply go back to drinking nothing at all. It would, in comparison, be no big loss. 

There have been challenges, of course, but my choices were the ones that were easiest and most enjoyable on aggregate for me. The only real difficulty was ensuring they were not overlooked. ■

Rocketman, a biopic of Elton John starring Taron Egerton, offers a compelling account of the veteran piano prima-donna’s life story, successfully interweaving his journey into and out of alcohol and other drug issues.

His alcohol and cocaine use quietly tiptoes up behind him, the viewer’s mind screaming louder and louder, “He’s behind you,” in the powerless agony of a child who spies a baddie at a Christmas pantomime.

While this silent threat looms ever larger, scene by scene, the story tirelessly flips between the flamboyant and introspective, the comical and tragic, the loud and the quiet, and the serious and the absurd.

The emotional load of this makes the musical interludes a much-needed emotional release. These numbers grow organically out of the story-line and are beautifully choreographed and energetically performed.

Perhaps the most touching of these numbers is the chillingly alienated underwater rendition of the song Rocketman of the title. It conveys poignantly the loneliness and disconnection of alcohol and drug problems.

Whether or not you are an Elton John fan there is much to be learned and enjoyed in this telling of his life story, in which alcohol, drugs and then 25 years without them are critical elements.

Egerton goes through more costumes in two hours than many of us in a lifetime. But, more impressively, he manages to admirably capture a combination of defiance and acceptance that allows many to start again. ■

The UK government kept quiet for 22 months about the “grace period” it gave alcohol suppliers to omit the official safety guidelines, Alcohol Companion has discovered.

The department agreed the alcohol industry could omit the information from labels until September 1st this year in March 2017, only formally telling the public of the deal in January this year.

The deal was struck under Jeremy Hunt (left), who was thwarted in a bid to become prime minister this week. Hunt handed over the health department reigns to fellow would-be leader Matt Hancock (right) last summer.  

The silence meant even the most informed onlookers were taken-aback when Alcohol Companion revealed the alcohol industry had suddenly dropped the guidelines from its voluntary code in October 2017.

The grace period first became a matter of public record in January thanks to a speech to parliament by Steven Brine (below), who started as a junior minister three months after the little-known pact.

The health department says an eagle-eyed observer might have inferred the industry had been offered the delay in labelling from a Food Standards Agency update issued in September 2017.

It also says it issued guidance on how to communicate the low-risk guidelines at the same time as it quietly agreed the alcohol industry could have 30 months more omitting them.

“We are starting to see more products with labels that reflect the new guidelines and the department will continue to work with industry to implement the guidance,” the department said.

Only around 14% of alcoholic drinks labels tell consumers of the 14 UK unit (140ml) a week guideline, according to a BBC Panorama investigation into the issue last month.

The guideline was first introduced in January 2016. As few as one-in-six UK consumers know it. ■

One book on alcohol is enough, surely? Well, not quite, which is the reason I recently put out Alcohol for Nerds, a slim compilation of self-contained pieces on alcohol. Here’s why.

The alcohol science presented in Alcohol Companion produced many useful answers, at least for me. But it also raised many difficult questions.“Don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do?” as Adam Ant neatly put it in 1982.

With Ant’s queries still echoing my mind after my first book I felt I should at least try to offer a few solid answers. There is the recreational vacuum Ant notes, but also the ingrained beliefs and ideas to re-mould.

The science makes it abundantly clear, for instance, that drinking alcohol to deal with tension, low mood, shyness or to gain inspiration is liable to backfire. But then, what do we do? In Alcohol for Nerds, I explore some alternatives, like learning improv, soothing my woes by plunging myself in icy water and taking imaginative flights of fancy through psychogeography.

It is also clear that the sense of freedom we get from alcohol has the fundamental flaw of coming with a disabled brain. But what is the alternative? There are performance skills, as I found. And we can also broaden our ideas of freedom. Freedom is not just about lowering barriers to commerce, it is also about self-realisation and an absence of dependence.

The science I explore in Alcohol Companion has universal implications, but the way we deal with these implications does not need to be universal. Alcohol for Nerds is the product of me, a nerd, wrangling with the issues it raises for the last four years. I hope the results are of some help.

There are many other perspectives on this which each chime with different people. They have one thing in common: there can be few more concrete ways to improve our mental and physical health, and our personal finances than to come to terms with consistent low-risk drinking.

With a pandemic running riot, this is, perhaps, a uniquely good time to give it a try. ■