Name: Booze fairies.
Age: The origins are a little opaque. But certainly, like many things, booze fairies have become more of a thing in the past year.
And what the hell are they, please? They leave gift baskets containing drinks, secretly, outside people’s houses.
Do they have wings? Sometimes. Some also wear tutus.
Where and how do they operate? In the US, obviously. They work in groups, on social media and within communities. After sharing their own addresses, and their tipple of choice, participants are assigned other fairies to deliver to. As well as a bottle – and perhaps something else comforting, such as snacks or bath bombs – a basket will contain the address of someone else to deliver to. So beneficiary becomes benefactor.
A kind of self-perpetuating cycle of neighbourliness and goodwill. The magic of fairies and the unknown, with an adult twist. Exactly that. “This has 100% restored my faith in humanity,” Erica Weaks, the founder of a group in Greenbrier, Tennessee, told the New York Times. “It’s the sense of not being alone, of knowing someone out there cares about you and will do whatever it takes to put a smile on your face.”
Even if that is a psychoactive drug that causes intoxication and can result in dependence, withdrawal, cause liver and brain damage, as well as increasing the risk of cancer? Obviously booze fairies shouldn’t visit too often, and all the usual health warnings apply.
No, it sounds lovely, and a lot more important, and believable, than the tooth fairy. Let’s get it up and running in Britain then.
Well, that might be tricky. How so?
In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re just going into Lockdown III. Duh, exactly why we need booze fairies more than ever!
Yes, but you can only leave the house for work, or medical reasons or for exercise, once a day. Er … it is exercise. The bottles? They’re weights! Yes, I always work out in wings, officer.
Hmmm. Well then, it’s work. I’m a booze fairy, this is what I do, deliver booze. No, of course I can’t do it from home, would you ask an Ocado driver to do that?
Very well, sir, madam, carry on. Oh, just one more question: isn’t it supposed to be dry … Oh no you don’t. Don’t you bloody dare “dry January” me. That got cancelled, officially, when the lockdown came in.
Do say: “Step aside, tooth fairy, the adults have got this one. Vermouth fairy coming through!”
Don’t say: “Make mine a nosecco, please.”