The Last Drop

I have decided to have a dry February.

My liver, which will be buried separately with full military honours, could do with a stand-down, so I shall be off the cider from 1-29 February.

Actually, if I were to be a superhero, I should be Ciderman, although I think I'd look pretty silly in spandex. I already have my own song (OK, I know it is one of a number of spoofs, some of which are available on YouChoob for viewers in Scotland, but what the hey - this is mine) to be sung to this melody:

Ciderman, Ciderman,
Drinking 'K' straight from the can.
ABV 8.4
Twelve and he's on the floor.
Hey there, there goes the Ciderman.

Is he strong, is he tough?
'course he is, 'cos he drinks Rough.
In his local he'll be found,
Just ensure it's not your round.
Look out - here comes the Ciderman!

Taken care of biz, 
He'll be found at the bar.
He'll go take a whizz, 
Then he'll have another jar.

Ciderman, Ciderman,
Friendly neighbourhood Ciderman.
Sobriety he's ignored,
Liver damage is his reward.

To him life is a great big booze-up,
Wherever they pump hooch up
You'll find the Cidermaaaaaaaaaaaan.