A collection of celebrated Australian writers and comedians have taken a nostalgic, and often shudder-inducing, look back at the questionable alcoholic drinks that defined their younger years. From singed eyebrows to ritualised drinking games, their stories paint a vivid picture of a less refined era of summer libations.
Flaming Drinks and Fiery Consequences
Author Kathy Lette recalls her early foray into alcohol with sickly sweet Spumante at age 13, an experience so traumatic it put her off drinking for five years. Her drink of choice later became the fireball sambuca, a shot set alight before consumption. Lette humorously notes the peril of forgetting to extinguish the flame after a few too many, leading to "hot lips" in the most literal sense.
She credits the flaming sambuca with a series of youthful mishaps, including a glitter ball injury, an ill-advised kiss, and waking up in a foreign country. "It was the flaming sambuca which converted me to religion," Lette quips, "I’d never believed in hell until I awoke one morning with singed lips, the sack, an areola infection and a mouth like the bottom of a budgie cage."
From Passion Pop to Cultural Icons
For writer Trent Dalton, the journey began with the infamously sweet Passion Pop and progressed to Bundaberg rum mixed with Coke. A more romantic, if misguided, phase involved Stones ginger wine, purchased by older men at the local TAB, fuelling Pogues-inspired singing sessions with his brothers.
"This behaviour was not sustainable," Dalton admits, describing a shift to White Russians while playing video games. His taste eventually matured to Coopers Pale Ale, which he describes fondly as "like drinking Australian dirt." His fondness for the beer was so great he once traded a Daihatsu Charade car for a six-pack.
Concoctions and Curdled Regrets
Comedian Rhys Nicholson started as the designated sober friend in Newcastle before a disastrous invention changed everything: the "vodka spider." This mix of cheap vodka, creaming soda, and vanilla ice-cream famously curdled and was swiftly redecorated across a back lawn. Nicholson later graduated to lurid RTDs and buckets of vodka Redbull on Sydney's Oxford Street, with ambitions of appearing nonchalant in street press photos.
Comedian Harry Jun was introduced to Korean drinking culture at university through an MT (Membership Training) trip. The centrepiece was Somaek, a mix of soju and beer, and a game called Titanic, where a shot glass is slowly sunk into a schooner. The person who sinks it must scull the potent mixture. "It goes on for hours and I can testify to the fact it will mess you up," Jun recalls, despite retaining a fondness for it.
Meanwhile, comic Elouise Eftos remembers the Perth poolside scene of the late 2000s, where Midori and lemonade stood in for absinthe, fuelling Moulin Rouge-inspired fantasies. While her Juicy Couture phase has passed, her love for tropical cocktails like the frozen pina colada remains a nostalgic summer staple.
Together, these stories from Australia's literary and comedy figures offer a unified, if hangover-inducing, memory: the universally awful yet formative drinking experiments of youth.
