Home Australia TOM PARKER BOWLES tries the hangover cure that seems to actually work. But after two beers, three pints of cider, a martini and a half bottle of red… he finds out there is a catch

TOM PARKER BOWLES tries the hangover cure that seems to actually work. But after two beers, three pints of cider, a martini and a half bottle of red… he finds out there is a catch

by Elijah
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TOM PARKER BOWLES tries the hangover cure that seems to actually work. But after two beers, three pints of cider, a martini and a half bottle of red... he finds out there is a catch

“Prolong the night, improve the morning.” So goes the recipe for the Safety Shot, the latest in a seemingly inexhaustible line of health potions, potions, panaceas and (some might argue) snake oil that promise to alleviate the symptoms of the previous night’s excess.

Because ever since early man first tasted booze, pretty much overdid it, and woke up in his cave with a pounding headache and sense of existential angst, we’ve all longed for that one-hit silver bullet, the hangover, the holy grail. Something that just makes the pain go away.

But this American import is unlike anything that has come before. “The big difference is that there is nothing in the world that lowers your blood alcohol level like our patented drink,” says Brian John, the company’s CEO. This ‘proprietary patented formula’ not only claims to ‘enhance mental clarity’ and ‘support liver detoxification’, but actually reduces blood alcohol levels by ‘up to 50 per cent within 30 minutes’.

You gods!

TOM PARKER BOWLES tries the hangover cure that seems to

Tom Parker Bowles holds a can of Safety Shot in a pub in Kensington, west London. The drinks company’s chief executive claims the drink reduces blood alcohol levels by ‘up to 50 per cent within 30 minutes’

Safety Shot is both clumsily sweet and terribly bitter, it tastes of penance and punishment, with a top note of sick, writes Tom Parker Bowles

Safety Shot is both clumsily sweet and terribly bitter, it tastes of penance and punishment, with a top note of sick, writes Tom Parker Bowles

Safety Shot is both clumsily sweet and terribly bitter, it tastes of penance and punishment, with a top note of sick, writes Tom Parker Bowles

If true (and that ‘if’ does some serious heavy lifting), this could be massive. Immense. Indeed, this is the kind of news that should be celebrated in traditional British fashion. So excuse me while I sip down the pub, down six pints, down a couple of whiskey chasers and chug a can of Safety Shot. Before I returned home to write this piece, my facilities were miraculously spotless. It could even make the “designated driver” a thing of the past. Top men of the world, rejoice!

But before you get too intoxicated by the untapped promise of this super-powerful safety shot, there’s a small warning, printed in block letters, on the bottom of the can. ‘SAFETY GUNS ARE NOT JUST TO ALLOW CONSUMERS TO LEGALLY DRINK AND DRIVE.’ Oh. Right. Well, that’s probably for the best.

But what about the science? As someone who barely got a D in GCSE Chemistry, I’m hardly qualified to comment. But I dig deep into the Safety Shot website and search for hard empirical evidence to support their remarkable claims.

The scientific evidence is opaque to say the least. The main ingredient listed is ‘triple filtered purified water’, followed by ‘apple pectin’, and it claims to contain six different B vitamins. Also included are a host of unknown additives, including n-acetylcysteine, cognizin citicoline and synephrine HCL. ‘Safety Shot reduces blood alcohol levels through several factors that help process alcohol more effectively,’ it explains. Oh, and ‘It should be noted that each person is different. Genetics, liver health, habituation and a host of other factors can affect the rate at which alcohol is metabolized.’ Hmmm. True, but hardly enlightening.

Then it’s time to take matters into your own hands. And step out, into the dark, cold night, armed only with a thirst (for the truth, as well as a pint or two) and a few cans of Safety Shot.

Is this the miracle brew we’ve all been waiting for? Or just another over-sugary concoction slickly dressed in an overly shiny suit?

I start around 4pm on a Saturday, at my friend Jake’s house. He looks after his children and is more than happy to have a drinking partner. I whip out my can of Safety Shop and tell him, with breathless excitement, all about this drink.

As a man with a biology degree from Oxford (albeit over a quarter of a century ago), he can smell quackery from a mile away. “So,” he says, looking at the can with barely concealed disdain, “this drink promises to overturn everything we know about alcohol and its effects on the blood and the body. Without sharing their study data or peer-reviewed research?’ He is not convinced.

Brian John, Head of Safety Shot, says: 'there's nothing in the world that lowers your blood alcohol level like our patented drink'

Brian John, Head of Safety Shot, says: 'there's nothing in the world that lowers your blood alcohol level like our patented drink'

Brian John, Head of Safety Shot, says: ‘there’s nothing in the world that lowers your blood alcohol level like our patented drink’

“Certainly,” he continues, “if this drink could actually reduce blood alcohol levels by as much as the company claims, it would be worth billions and a staple of every emergency unit in the world.”

He shakes his head and goes back to watching F1.

In an attempt to regain some control over the narrative, I try another tack, rambling on about Safety Shot’s ‘rigorous testing on numerous people’.

‘Do we know who they are?’, Jake asks. Um, no. What about all the ‘researchers, formulators and scientists’ who have been involved in the development of Safety Shot for ‘several years’?

‘Show me their names,’ he replies. I can not. ‘And I bet it’s classed as a “supplement” too.’ Er, yup. ‘This means that the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) does not interfere either. Why am I not surprised?’ He remains silent for another second. ‘Worst of all, who in God’s name would go to the pub for a few drinks. While paying for something to keep you from getting drunk?’ He takes a furious swig of his beer. ‘Safety, my a**.’

Fortunately, though, I’m made of sterner stuff. And conducts a violently controlled experiment for the benefit of humanity.

I give the can a good shake, open it, drink deeply and immediately wish I hadn’t. Oh God. The horror! Because it is truly disgusting, one of the ugliest things that has ever passed my lips. And this is coming from a man who has chewed raw offal, slurped cold blood soup, and eaten every part of a pig except the box.

Both clumsily sweet and terribly bitter, it tastes of penance and punishment with a top note of sick. And reminds me of that antibiotic medicine you had to take as a child. I manage to force down an entire can, much to Jake’s amusement. Then it immediately starts to feel a little strange. The cable. Edgy. A touch anxiety. Which might be down to the 400 mg of caffeine (about the same four double espressos) that is squirted into an empty stomach. In fact, after drinking all 355ml, I really don’t want to do anything but sit, and feel a bit nauseous, and very strange indeed.

Anyway, two bottles of Italian crap later (why does anyone like Peroni?), we wander down to the pub and over two hours drink three pints of Aspall cider. Normally I would feel pretty happy. My head is pathetically light and it doesn’t take much to get me in the party spirit.

But somehow it’s not quite the pure unalloyed joy it usually is sitting in a warm pub on a cold Saturday afternoon with my best friend. There’s a nagging, unspecified worry gnawing at the pit of my stomach.

Hey ho. Dinner next time. But as I wander over to Sam’s Riverside in Hammersmith, perched on the edge of the River Thames, I still feel a little out of shape. My daughter Lola is already there and I order a martini even though I don’t feel like drinking it. Curious and inquisitive.

I manage another half bottle of red before giving up completely. Like the pub, this is simply not fun. And dinner with my daughter is always fun.

I also miss three beer fuzz: the warm, bubbly bonhomie at the communal table. I just want to go home. We leave early and I crawl into bed and fall into a fitful sleep.

Well, I wake up a little less nauseous than the night before, although there are still flickers of terror. There are no signs of a hangover, although an early night and a pint of water before sleep may have helped.

But even though I was in the throes of a hangover so biblical that Moses could inscribe it on his tablets, I simply could not drink it again.

So is this the secret to the Safety Shot? To make someone feel so awful that nothing, let alone a drink, can ever pass your lips? I really have no idea if Safety Shot’s blood alcohol claims are true. What I do know is that I will never lay eyes on this lousy can again.

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