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BOTTLED! (A MISLEADING TITLE.)

21st December 1926
Page 65
Page 65, 21st December 1926 — BOTTLED! (A MISLEADING TITLE.)
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An Unusual, but Even Entertaining and Intriguing Experience, which Did Not Mislead so Much as the Title.

By Fred Gillett.

HAVE you ever been bottled? I have—once! Actually bottled. Please do not misunderstand me. The immediate proximity of the festive season may lead you to suppose that when I say that I was actually bottled I mean that I was " bottled" (with inverted commas) in a liquid or pint-measured sense. If I add that I was not badly bottled, but well bottled, you might even misunderstand me doubly or treble-X-ly.

Bottle is a beautiful poetic word. It rhymes with several things, such as throttle. If I said to you, "What'll . . ? " alluding to a turkey's wattle, you might jump to a false conclusion and be disappointed, or disappinted.

No; please do not be under any misunderst finding— unless, of course, there is a pleasing Miss under-standlog beneath the mistletoe!

When I say I was bottled, I do not metin that I was "under the influence of." At the time of my bottling I was as sober as a Dee salmon—a Dee salmon being a fish that never gets canned! No, sir, when I say that I was absolutely bottled, I mean that I was actually inside a bottle.

It happened thus. Being in the neighbourhood of Burton-on-Trent, and passing through the little village of Alton, in Staffordshire, I called at the Shrewsbury Hotel to wish the landlord many of them. Entering the saloon bar, I addressed the lady behind the counter with the familiar slogan, "Baa, baa, barmaid, hare you any beer?" .

Before she could give the usual counter-sign, "yes, sir, yes, sir—" a soft purring noise was heard at the front entrance. Looking out of the window, I: saw the largest bottle I had ever seen. The sort of bottle Gulliver might have encountered during his travels among the Brobdingnagians. It was on wheels and it stopped at the front door. If bottles could speak, it would have answered my question with, "Yes, sir; yes, sir; Worthington is here," I was, as they ulually say in fiction, "intrigued."

At first sight I thought the vehicle was merely a bottle-shaped body put on to a Ford one-tonner, but on closer inspection, and a kindly demonstration by its driver, I was pleased to discover that the bottleshaped body, instead of covering a minimum of sins, was mounted on the top of a 30 h.p. Daimler. The lines of the bottle blended with those of the ear, the curves of the bottle's shoulders forming the "cab."

I have heard of Mr. Cann of Camden as a bodybuilder, but this body was no more canned than I was bottled. The whole thing was built of boiler plating and riveted like the boiler of a railway engine. The bottle itself weighed 2i tons and contained, not beer, but advertising matter for distribution among the various houses belonging to this particular brewery.

Before going any farther, I should like to put in the usual disclaimer that I have no interest in Daimlers or Worthingtons, except a driving one in one and a drinking one in the other. Good wine needs no bush, and these commodities need no rebushing, I have still to mention that the neck of the bottle is carried over the top of the bonnet, and the "cork," which is about a foot in diameter, forms the radiator cap.

I inquired of the driver what sized corkscrew he carried for drawing this particularly large cork. In fact, I suggested that a detachable crankshaft, if sharpened at one end, would serve the purpose and be about the size of it. The driver, however, showed me that the "cork" was ingeniously hinged in the centre, so that the radiator could be opened easily.

A lifting of the bonnet displayed the beauties of the Silent Knight sleeve-valve engine, and, to complete the ceremony of inspection, I got Inside the "Cab." More than once I have had a bottle of ale inside me, but never before had I been inside an ale bottle. It was the first time I ever remember being bottled.

Tags

People: Cann, Fred Gillett
Locations: Alton

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