Jim Morrison: Too many Scots dying for a drink

MY earliest memories of drink were as a mid-teen. A half bottle of Gordon's gin, complete with metal stopper, resided in my parent's sideboard. Out of curiosity – when they were out of course – I uncorked it and had a swig. It was vile. No wonder it lay there for months practically untouched by my parents, neither of whom were great drinkers.

My father got to go to the pub on a Saturday night after work for an hour for a pint or two. But whisky was reserved for nights out at dances or Christmas and New Year. Other than that mine was a pretty dry household.

I have to thank my older playing chums at the rugby club for my next true drinks experience. Jugs of heavy served after the match, generally in the dressing room after a game. I had my first hangover after a club annual dinner where unwisely full to the brim with beer I switched to vodka and diluting orange. Not a good mixture. My parents were not impressed when I rolled home but fortunately by the time I got there I had disposed of much of the foul mixture in nearby bushes. So straight to bed and only a sore head in the morning to cope with, and a knowledge that vodka and sweet mixers were not for me. Sadly on many occasions since I have not learned my lesson, frequently falling into the "never again" category, but never quite living up to the promise. Fortunately, with age I am finally becoming wiser.

But the same cannot be said for most Scots. New figures suggest that every man and woman in Scotland is now downing an average of 23 units of alcohol a week – well over the accepted safe limits. That's an alcohol lake of some 640 million litres swallowed in 2007.

While the health warnings and legislation in restricting smoking in public places have been instrumental in curbing tobacco consumption, drink-related health warnings seem to be largely ignored and our thirst for the hard stuff continues to rise.

One of the reasons for this is that the stigma has largely been removed from excessive drinking across the social classes. In my parents' day a drunk would have been frowned upon. It is now not only socially acceptable, but in some sections of society thought an essential part of life, as a trip down George Street or Lothian Road late on a Friday night, or into any city centre, would suggest. To get bladdered is now, for many, a national pastime.

The other reason is that drink related to income has never been so cheap. It used to cost around £12 for a bottle of vodka, now one can be obtained for half of that. Six cans of lager for £6, what more needs to be said? If the Government is serious about stamping it out and reducing the growing bill to the NHS, the pricing policy at least has to be looked at seriously. And there need to be tougher penalties for those who supply underage drinkers, along with more education in schools.

One in four liver transplants in this country is now carried out on someone who abuses alcohol. As a result, waiting lists have soared and the cost of treating other alcohol-related illnesses continues to soar.

Drinking to excess is already costing the Scottish Government over £2.25 billion a year. At the rate the bill is growing it will soon be cheaper to bail out a bank or two than to treat all those that will be needing help.

They're not all fat cats
Not much reason for going out and celebrating for workers at Lloyds TSB and HBOS as the public debate over whether they are entitled to bonuses this year rumbles on. It is understandable that the public find it difficult to swallow the fact that the group plans to go ahead with bonus payments totalling £120 million – after £17bn of taxpayers' money has been pumped into keeping it afloat.

While there is a degree of sympathy around for lower-paid workers earning around £17,000 who stand to lose out on payments of £1000 each, little exists for the "banking fats cats" whose corporate greed is largely responsible for the position they find themselves in. Sadly, all are being tarred with same brush and, while the Government has been at great pains to say that despite the high level of public ownership of bailed-out banks it intends to let them run themselves, they are now playing with taxpayers' money – not their own.

But bonuses have become an accepted part of banking culture and the little men cannot be held accountable for their bosses' mistakes.

Spotless minds
A pill to eradicate memories. Just how clever are the Dutch? Although it is hoped that it might provide a cure for post-traumatic stress, presumably it could be equally effective in helping erase all memory of the occasional embarrassing moment after that night out of over-indulgence. Or that disastrous drink-fuelled one night stand?

Surely better to drink in moderation and wake up with fond memories of a good night out. After all, our memories are surely what make us what we are.