Henry

A shot of jagermeister sits on the bar in front of me.  A fellow party-guest stands beside me.  I introduce myself.  He is wearing a white rugby shirt, has short-back-and-sides and works for the government.  His demeanour is hearty.

I have never tasted jagermeister before so ask him what it is like.  He compares it to an expensive and sweet mouthwash.  His middle name is after both of his grandfathers, neither of whom he knew.

From the other side of the bar a countdown commences.  We clink our shot glasses and down them on command.  His description is not inaccurate.