Kokkinelli and the EU

[Akrotiri bad boy]

Myself, Mrs Bad Boy and some old chums, have just returned from a trip to the land of the Brandy Sour.

Whilst there we couldn't but help indulge in a few of our favourite things: Brandy Sours, Keo, and Kokkinelli. The brandy sours were the same, Keo also the same, (however since the UK signed the Keoto agreement it is now compulsory to sink a dozen a day), but as for the Kokkinelli, what can I say? Gone is the unlabelled, greasy bottle with an ill fitting ragged stopper decanted from agricultural tanks at the rear of roadside tavernas to be replaced with a smart number sporting a label claiming the contents to be "Village Crop", brewed in this way for over a thousand years, and only available from approved outlets.

If this change in the presentation of Kokkinelli was a requirement for Cypriot accession to the European Union then those meddling Eurocrats have unleashed a monster; where previously only low paid servicemen were subjected to this libation now thousands of tourists could unwittingly be exposed to the most powerful laxative and household cleaner known to man, (Cillit Bang not withstanding).

Does anyone have any memories about Kokkinelli.......because I don't

[StopStart]

We too suffered this huge indignity during a very recent nightstop.
Kokinelli in a GLASS bottle with a label??? Is there no end to the suffering in this hideous war on terror??

No point staying in the RAF now.

[BEagle]

You'll be telling me next that you actually have to pay for kokkinelli these days.....

"WHO HALLOUMI, WHO LIVER??!!" "Yes sirs, I bring more tahini and nose warmers pretty damn quick........ You one-oh-one tanker wanquerres, not one hundred squadron poofs?"

I do actually miss that....



A bit.


Now and again.


Unfortunately I haven't been able to sample the joys of the kebab and kokkinelli culture for a while now. But, if memory recalls correctly, the waiter normally asks "You full kebab or half kebab. Who halloumi, who liver. Everyone sheesh? Village salad?" in that quiet, polite voice so reminiscent of the days of "WHA' IS YOUR DME SITIA?" bellowed by Greek Air Traffickers from an echo chamber.

The first point is that some readers unfamiliar with a 'proper' kebab - might think that we're discussing a donar kebab. Not so!! The Cyprus kebab is a multi-course pig out involving much noise, abuse from both sides, copious kokkinelli and often ends in the early hours with the sound of hurried footsteps on an urgent mission....

One first needs a few jugs of brandy sour to get into the mood. Then, around the time that the Mess dress rules change into boring mode, one sends a chum to order taxis. These will often be sorted through Chris, son-of-Chris, friend-of-Chris, no-problem-I-fix friend-of-son-of-Chris, or others. Who know Chris. A large black Merc will then turn up and the game of 'how much to the village' kicks off. At breakneck speed the limo heads off and after slowing down to just subsonic to avoid flattening the lads on the gate, it soon deposits the happy kebab fans at a 'restaurant' consisting of breeze blocks, metal tables and chairs, a TV playing loudly to itself in the corner, an old grey haired wizened chap sitting in the other corner, numerous bondhu cats investigating the mysterious disappearance of their brothers whilst avoiding bottle tops thrown at them for them to play with - and various long-suffering waiters dressed in the traditional black trousers and white shirt. An argument then begins over how many tables and chairs are needed; much dragging and scraping of furniture then ensues until finally, much to the chagrin of the locals, a table for about 15 or so is constructed. Drink is then ordered - invariably Keo beer, kokkinelli and Sprite (to weaken the kokkinelli. On no account should the Sprite be consumed on its own - that would be Against The Rules.....). Bowls of salad, pitta bread, tahini, tatziki, olives, lemons, yoghourt etc appear with incredible speed - and cries of "Oi, Stavros more nose-warmers" soon follow as the pitta bread is woofed in the first 2 minutes. Then comes the interrogation "Who full kebab, who half kebab?" The full kebab is usually something like sheftalia, sheesh, liver or halloumi (hence the "Who halloumi, who liver?" question), racing chicken and pork chop. Served at around 10 minute intervals, during which time the kokkinelli arrives, is consumed at the rate of at least 1-2 bottles per head (because we NEVER fly the next day. No, dear me no. Never indeed...) and is replaced. The half kebab can be more selective but causes more difficulty for the waiters. Personally, I'd go for sheftalia, sheesh, halloumi and lountza and wouldn't bother with the racing chicken or pork chop. Yet more nose-warmers, salad and tahini, then the coffee decision and silly jokes about "Turkish- oops, sorry, I mean Greek Delight please". If none of the party have been sick on the table, fallen into their plates or behaved too outrageously, then you might be lucky and get free Ouzo as an after dinner treat - or if you're luckier, Filfar. Then, after the 'who had what - ah, to hell with it - £7 Cyp per head'll do' accounting game, it's time to accuse the taxi drivers of not turning up on time or attempting to rip you off before another high speed drive back to the block. One hopes that one's crew will keep quiet at the main gate to allow the most sober person present to show ID to the gate mate and vouch for the rabble in the back.

Then after a few litre bottles of Keo or Carlsberg as a night-cap, one finds one's pit. Not long after the bed starts spinning, an urgent communication from the lower intestines prompts the first player in the bog sprint competition, repeated at regular intervals by other competitors.

Come the next day and, miraculously, all is well with the world.

Or not.

At least, not until about Elba. And you can always blame the headache on attempts to get the weather on HF!

[Birdy99]

At least one dose of Kokkinelli poisoning per det is the law. I must admit that I didn't even know how to spell it with the previous lack of labelling or it's possibly that the amount I have consumed in the past has erased that prat of my bran concremed wert smelling

[6foottanker]

Aaah, the only reason to regret the end of the Basra slip! Just mind those storm drains if you can't be bothered to wait for the hearse...er...I mean Taxi to arrive!

[brakedwell]

[QUOTE=BEagle;2859356]
Come the next day and, miraculously, all is well with the world.
Or not.
At least, not until about Elba. And you can always blame the headache on attempts to get the weather on HF![/QUOTE



The more sedate cruising speed of the Whispering Giant meant that the headaches were long gone by the time we reached Elba, however, four crimson cheeked aviators strapped in the the sharp end did not regain their usual palour until Nice had passed under the starboard wing.

[Pontius Navigator]

I remember it well. Niazi 1965.

Reverting to the start of the day, I had a couple of beers with friends in the bar at lunchtime and made the wise decision at 9 pm that I would not go down town for a kebab.

On the way out of the mess I slipped and fell in to a Mercedes taxi.

At Niazis I was lucky and met up with the rest of my crew.

After the kebab I asked "Anyone want anymore KK?"

Without waiting for an answer I upended the bottle and proceeded to fill all available glasses. Unfortunately my ability to distinguish between an empty glass and a full one was nil. I was also unable to reverse the inverted bottle between first drop and empty bottle.

As I was standing at the time (amazing) I didn't get wet.

The next day I felt no pain.

[buoy15]

When the Kokinelli arrives with lables on, it means your paying for it, but you need to read the very small print on the back, which is in Greek, and translates,
"Only to be taken lying down and consult your doctor next day"
That's assuming you make it back to the block!:

[Out Of Trim]

Sounds like you lot had it easy! We used to do all the same as in BEagles post but, that Pushti Taxi Driver on the way back; used to indulge in switching the Mercs Headlights Off at various times of the journey to try and get your Attention - To loud shouts of PUSHTI from all his passengers..

Great times.

[Tim Mills]

Kokkinelli in glass bottles? They'll be selling it in Waitrose next! But, in spite of what bigbluecar says, I bet it turns from drinkable to disgusting about the south of France if one tries to take it home. Maybe we never let it age, as he has!

Friday ritual, happy hour, then off to Niazis, several Keos (green bottles only, didn't taste the same from brown ones, so the boss said, so so did we!), standard kebab, lots of KK,, maybe a Mataxis brandy or so, back into the car, set off by the back road through the plantation, spin 180 unintentionally, and un noticed, end up back at Niazis again! Try again, get home, into pit, off to Buttons Bay with the kids in the morning, recover.

And the flying wasn't bad either.

Incidentally BBC, Beags posted a recipe for gingering up transported KK on the Weber thread some time ago, if yours goes off!

[Wholigan]

Sorry for the mini thread creep, but it IS still about Kokinelli!

Every time we went to El Adem for an APC, we drank the stuff mixed with coke and this was called - if memory serves - "screech" for pretty obvious reasons!

Incidentally we also used to go to the Tobruk beach club, where we did our dinghy drills by throwing someone in with a single-seat dinghy, which he then inflated. We then filled the dinghy with Kokinelli and coke and Keo, and he had to swim out to the large raft and unload the dinghy onto the raft. We all swam to the raft and consumed said dinghy load of rations. The day was interspersed with such shouts to the shore as: "Hey - Luigi - another bucket of ravioli"; and "Another dinghy of rations please - this one's nearly gone".

Aaaaaah - bliss!

[Pontius Navigator]

and from another, less erudite, forum:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Originally posted by miguel
kokinelli?
wassat? will it make me think i can fly, maaaan?
or is it like kokopelli and i'll end up pregnant (and very famous, being a chap)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Miguel, it's the rocket fuel from Bootscooters Fat Jet {I ain't lying am I??, he goes to Cyprus & brings back the Kokkinelli in the Fat Jet }

anyways,

2nd time I met Boots was when he pitched up at mine with a demijohn of Kokkinelli. He announced that it works from the feet up & sure as f***, he wobbled before his tongue went floppy & he started dribblin & talking bollox.

If you're partial to a wee drink, you'll love it


__________________>>

Sounds like the same stuff
..

[Gainesy]

Cracking post BEags.

Ah, the memories! Trying to clamber out of bondu drains, giving up on it and waking up covered in scrapes, bruises and with a splitting headache--must have been the dodgy halloumi.

The really hard core Kokkinelli died yer teeth purple.

[Pontius Navigator]

I obviously passed selection and had to endure 3 years rigorous imbibment trying to drain the KK lake.

I had one problem that I never managed to resolve in 3 years. I used to get heartburn drinking Keo. The solution was to switch from one Keo product to the other. In 3 years I never figured out whether it was the brandy or the beer that was the problem.

Anyway, whenever I switched the pain went away only to be replaced some hours later with a different sort of pain else where.

Now the beer that reaches parts that other beers don't reach was dead easy to diagnose. Absolute paralysism was the clue.

[Gainesy]

Seem to remember that Keo beer gave one a headache and a pain in the kidneys.

It was rumoured that analysis of it showed it contained 13 poisons including traces of lead and arsenic.

Also remember that brandy was cheaper than Lucozade, so standard cold/flu remedy was to retire with a couple of jugs full of brandy sour.

Akrotiri, a three-year gap in reality, absolutely loved it.

[om15]

One aspect not mentioned in the Kokkinelli reminiscences was the part of the evening devoted to "stopping the fan with your head"- skilled practitioners of this art could bend their heads back and slowly bring the whirring ceiling fan to a halt by using the forehead as a brake.
this was a very rare skill, usually bravado, kokkenelli and enthusiastic encouragement from fellow diners resulted in the battered attemptee being flung across the table, whilst the blood streaked fan retained the selected RPM.

[Akrotiri bad boy]

Celebrated my 21st at Akro doing the fan thing. Yup, fuelled with enough kokkers to drop an elephant I used my head to stop the fan 21 times. Since then I've never felt alone, I've always got plenty of voices in my head...it must be the steel plate picking up the taxi's.

[Zoom]

Remember the meze, though, with the full 15 to 20 courses depending. My first was at the Romantic Bar in Limassol in 1969 and cost 8 shillings including non-stop Kokkinelli; the following night it was 12 shillings for the same treatment at the Britannic, Britannia or similar. My big problem was that I thought that Kokkkinelli was merely red wine when, as you all know, it is actually fortified red wine. I learned about drinking from that.

Digressing a bit, my parents retired to Limassol and we would often go for a meze together, usually to the Klima in the tourist area as they had quite a good floorshow. They would advertise '15 courses for £2.500' or the like. My mum would count the courses and, invariably, a couple wouldn't arrive. She would enquire sternly, 'Where's the sheftalia. We're not tourists, you know. We live here.' They never dared argue with her - nor did I.

Digressing further but my last visit, in 2000, got me wondering if Cyprus was losing its charm. My brother, brother-in-law and I sought out a nice little bar and ordered 3 pints of ice-cold draught Keo. Three beers arrived but in glasses of about 300cl capacity. I said, 'Excuse me but we ordered 2 pints.' 'Those are pints.' 'No they're not.' 'Yes they are - they're Cyprus pints.' This was said without a spark of humour and we were charged the full whack. 'We're not tourists, you know' didn't work without my mum around to utter the words. This incident told me that maybe the legendary Cyprus friendliness was on the wane. Please tell me I'm wrong.

[maxburner]

Ah, the memories come flooding back.

One of my colleagues on 56 used to buy a demijohn of KK and back home would decant it into Harvey's Bristol Cream bottles. When his mum-in-law came round he would produce the Bristol Cream and she would be comatose in minutes.

We had some KK fuelled mayhem in Cyprus. Perhaps the best night was a case of collective insanity on the way back from Paphos. People were climbing out of the bus rear fire escape door, up onto the roof rack and then hanging upside down in front of the poor unfortunate driver (who was, I suspect, a cousin of Chris). We got stopped by the SBA police in Epi. The **** hit the fan the next day when the boss, who had been elsewhere, got the news via the Staish and the whole squadron was lined up along the stairs on golf dispersal, up to the boss's office, to be shouted at. Luckily I was a mere Fg Off so there was plenty of top cover, and plenty of folks ahead of me to take some of the sting out of it. In truth, the boss was starting to see the funny side by the time I got there. The groundcrew loved it, of course. All the aircrew, hung over and looking like death warmed up, being shouted at like naughty schoolboys. Wonderful. I suspect the banner was entirely safe that afternoon.

[DON T]

Didn't they produce a fine welsh version of that excellent wine called KOKKOLLANELLI