|BoHenry's well gin is Gordon's|
In the 1935 Hollywood horror, The Bride of Frankenstein, Boris Karloff’s monster meets a fey old necromancer called Dr Pretorius. “Do you like gin?” asks this extraordinary figure, nostrils flaring. “It is my only weakness.”
Among all the spirits, gin still signifies louche transgression and terminal seediness. And yet it has also had the smartest fans.
The Queen Mother was punctilious about her pre-lunch gin and Dubonnet. Byron assiduously glugged gin and water. T S Eliot once told someone at a party that his inspiration came from “gin and drugs”.
This highly entertaining journey through the drink’s Jekyll and Hyde nature – sometimes jolly and Bohemian, sometimes the anaesthesia for desperate poverty – switches back and forth, from decade to decade.
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