Like watching a labrador try to get peanut butter out of one of those contraptions that makes the job difficult, the friends and family of local man Mark van der Walt (26) have looked on with a mix of condescension and adoration as he today declared he would be ‘doing Dry July.’
‘Dry July,’ an inherently cowardly undertaking, involves not consuming any alcohol throughout the month of July, for no apparent reason other than the fact that ‘Dry’ rhymes with ‘July.’ Seems like a lot of intellectual muscles were really sprained with naming that one.
But for many, the month is an opportunity to reflect on one’s relationship with alcohol, to sober up, and to even raise funds from friends who you normally can’t persuade to shout you a pint, but will definitely chip in $30 to your chosen charity that will likely have zero relevance to alcohol abuse.
Mark falls into the camp of ‘doing this to help out my body.’ The Auchenflower local, who has had an excessive BMI since second-year uni, knows that he could be in better shape, but has rarely been able to find the motivation.
This year, however, the relentless nights of drinking and eating starchy carbs have caught up with him, and he has boldly proclaimed to anyone who will listen that he will be embarking on the coward’s way out, ‘Dry July.’
For anyone who knows Mark, however, stifled laughter tends to be the reaction instead of the warm applause which he was expecting. This is because Mark’s liver is so obviously functionally dead.
The hard-working liver, which fought through three years at King’s College, two years in a Paddington sharehouse unironically named ‘The Boys’ Beers Cave,’ and three years (and counting) of office Christmas parties where you try to forget calling the boss’ wife ‘babe,’ is so obviously dead already.
It is the height of blind optimism to assume a month without alcohol will make any impact on this deceased little fellow.
But go for it anyway, Mark. We’re watching. We’re waiting. And we’re ready with an ice-cold six-pack of Furphy for when you inevitably realise that you want one.
No more to come.