Will’s Word On Warwick: The Colour Purple – the search for the perfect pour

Opinion Comedy Column

Philosophy, pints, and a proof for God

“I drink Purple, therefore I am” – René Descartes (probably)

Purple is more than just a colour or a drink: it’s a way of life. Every Wednesday, Warwick students across the central Warwickshire area eagerly queue up for a chance to drink this famous beverage. From fast-moving and high-octane queues in Rouge Bar and Copper Rooms 2 to the longest queues in the world at Fusion and Kelsey’s, thousands gather in this pilgrimage to Purple in search of the perfect pint.

The religious links don’t end there: Purple itself is famously routed in scripture. For example, it is written that “On the first day, God made Purple” – it’s in the Bible, Genesis 1:1 if I’m not mistaken. Similarly, many suggest that the famous passage whereby Jesus turns water into wine is in fact the result of a mistranslation, and in the original Hebrew text Jesus actually turns water into Purple, presumably pouring one out in preparation for one Last Circle with the boys.

Some suggest that Purple itself is God, in that it is a perfect thing possessing all perfections, and that in hunting the perfect pour, one is, in actuality, searching for the almighty creator. Known Frenchman René Descartes famously said “I think therefore I am,” somewhere in France, probably. If he knew what he was talking about, which he probably did, this would suggest that the perfect Purple, possessing all perfections, must possess the power of thought and therefore it must be. This is definitely not a bastardisation of what he said, and fully vindicates my search for this metaphorical city of liquid gold. Moreover, as a perfect thing possessing all perfections, the perfect Purple must possess the quality of existence, otherwise it would not be the greatest possible Purple. Therefore, this perfect Purple definitely exists, my holiest of grails can be found, and this mission to find the perfect Purple will definitely not be in vain.

Why the Purple at Fusion is so subpar I will never know, as the staff presumably receive the same training and recipe as other on-campus bartenders

Now that we know that searching for the elusive perfect Purple is entirely worthwhile, we can begin by discounting certain Purple vendors that are, outside of a miracle, undoubtedly incapable of producing the perfect Purple pint. In Assembly, for example, not only do you initially have to order three in one go, with cash, but you also have to put up with their poor mixing, seeming lack of alcohol, and generally subpar quality. Unfortunately it just doesn’t taste the same, and I would implore you to ask yourself, have you ever been drunk in Assembly? Although, I’m sure Rugby Union upstairs would disagree.

In Fusion, your Purple will likely come with bits, serving more as a Purple stew than anything resembling a drink — this coming after waiting in the longest queue in the world and Circling in the brightest room in existence. Why the Purple at Fusion is so subpar I will never know, as the staff presumably receive the same training and recipe as other on-campus bartenders. Perhaps the inefficiency of the queuing system reflects the flawed Purple production of the bar as a whole. Either way, we can discount it as a site for potential Purple perfection.

In Kelsey’s, they somehow accidentally make Purple green, and horrible, and £12.50 for a pitcher, for some ungodly reason. The Eliminator, as it is dubbed, is an apt name, as upon drinking it you’ll immediately pray for the complete elimination of your taste buds, and general faculties. Notably, The Eliminator is so bad that it’s almost as disorientating as actually being in Kelsey’s, and the combination of the two is incredibly distressing. Of course, Kelsey’s itself features the grossest toilets in the county and generally looks like the worst property ever listed on Homes Under the Hammer. Ultimately, this syrupy, Fruit Shoot-esque, barely alcoholic beverage is convincingly outclassed by Purple at every turn. Interestingly, The Eliminator, and Kelsey’s as an institution, both actively serve as one of the strongest proofs against the existence of a benevolent God that can be seen today, as how could a loving God knowingly allow such evil? Perhaps, they could even prove the existence of an evil God.

Could a perfect Purple imply the existence of intentional design and, as a result, a perfect creator God?

For serious contenders of the perfect Purple prize, one must, as in all things, turn to the Copper Rooms for answers — surely, the ultimate truth lies in that beautiful place, that modern Delphi, that monolith of knowledge. In my humble opinion, the finest Purple in the world can be sourced exclusively within the confines of the Copper Rooms. Whether it is in Rouge Bar, Copper Rooms 1 or Copper Rooms 2, the results are broadly the same and generally spectacular. Whilst every now and again you are greeted with a Purple that looks like it’s already curdled, and with more foam in it than a Wednesday night in Freshers Week, this is generally a rare sight. Whilst it is not quite as well-priced as the good old days, where discounts were plentiful, as long as your friend’s friend loosely knew of the bartender, you can’t complain at £2.60 a pint.

However, The Copper Rooms may raise more questions than they answer. Could a perfect Purple imply the existence of intentional design and, as a result, a perfect creator God? The extraordinary precision required to craft the perfect pour of Purple is immense: from the exact chemistry of the mixture, to the ideal physiological effects of the drink on the consumer, to the very conditions in which said Purple is consumed. Surely, if this perfectly designed Purple is out there, it is proof of grand design and of a perfect creator. When the fantastically first-named philosopher William Paley suggested that a watch implies a watchmaker and that a world implies a world maker, did he repeatedly, and over many years, accidentally say “watch” when he meant “Purple,” and “watchmaker” when he meant “bartender,” all the while consistently feeling too embarrassed with his mistake to correct himself? Unfortunately, it’s hard to say for sure.

Of course, the perfect Purple relies on the perfect Purple consumer and on flawless conditions for its consumption. This raises all manner of questions, primarily: what is the perfect way to drink a Purple, and what are the philosophical implications that come with such an idea?

For example, the absurdity of the long arm pint may reflect Albert Camus’s presumably French idea that life is absurd, suggesting that there may be meaning to be found in this ridiculously ineffective way of consuming Purple.

There’s little doubt that the many ways to consume Purple offer a variety of philosophical insights and possess inherently strong, academic merit

The moral implications of Purple must also be weighed up. By throwing Purples at people you are, of course, doing God’s work by spreading love and positivity, alongside sharing valuable resources and loving thy neighbour, through Purple. Further acts of sharing and love abound, with Baby Bird pints serving as a key example, not only do these pints give you bonus liquid graciously passed on by your partner, but they also symbolise the importance of sharing and collaboration.

Perhaps a nihilist such as Nietzsche would draw insight from a Sock Pint, as the act’s unbridled grossness and complete disregard for hygiene and effective Purple consumption may symbolise the meaninglessness of existence and the rejection of social norms, whilst also making a clear statement that nothing matters, not even the possibility of wasted Purple, which is tragically absorbed by the sock.

Others would suggest that the Shower Pint and the Dentist’s Chair Pint reflect the philosophy of hedonism, as the unbridled pleasure and maximisation of Purple consumption are taken to the extreme, in line with presumably Greek, hedonistic ideas of indulgence and enjoyment.

The question as to which one of these techniques is the perfect approach to Purple consumption is currently subjective. For this reason, perfect Purple hunters are encouraged to try them all, as often as they can, to maximise the odds of success.

Overall, there’s little doubt that the many ways to consume Purple offer a variety of philosophical insights and possess inherently strong, academic merit, so perhaps regularly chugging Purples is far more valuable and insightful than any university module could ever hope to be.

So, for those eager to pin down that elusive perfect pour I would encourage you to buy as many Purples as physically possible from the Copper Rooms, making sure to quality test every single one of them, just to be sure. Via this method, I can safely say that one of us, through sheer determination, resilience, and mindset, will eventually track down that perfectly poured pint of Purple.

Will’s Word On Warwick is a satirical column intended for comedic purposes only.