26-04-2025
Hairy Biker star SI KING on why he never 'splits the G' and which drink he thinks is absolutely awful
My favourite drink as a kid was the bottle of milk with the straw you used to get at school. 11 o'clock milk time at St Joseph's Infants in Birtley, County Durham, was very exciting because we also got a digestive biscuit. Then Margaret Thatcher took the milk away, the cow. I must have been about five, and a lot less hairy back then.
My first alcohol was a sip of Warninks Advocaat, aged seven, at Christmas with my Auntie Hilda. My Uncle George, her husband, was the finest home brewer and he would give me light ale on the bench in his garden with his mates. He was 75 and would talk about 'the ancient art of sitting', which he said was disappearing.
If I wake up before 6am, I go downstairs, make a cup of builder's tea with milk, no sugar, come back, put a candle on in the bedroom then drink the tea as I nod in and out of sleep.
I rarely spend more than a tenner on a bottle of wine, but that's not true of whisky. If it's been a really good year, I'll go for a 21-year-old Redbreast. At £287, it's a beautifully crafted Irish whiskey with apricot notes.
I had a negroni on my first date with my girlfriend Jen in February, two years ago. I was playing in a band called Groovetrain in a place [in Newcastle] called Hoochie Coochie. I finished the set and we had a drink together. The rest, as they say, is short-term history.
What I enjoy most of an evening is a stout or a Guinness with a little whisky on the side, and that will be it for the night. There's a beautiful whisky called Spey. The distillery is owned by a lad from Sunderland. I'm not the kind to 'split the G' of the Guinness, though. God almighty, just enjoy the Guinness and stop being so anal.
The most memorable place I've ever had a drink was on top of the Faena Hotel, in Buenos Aires, on my 40th birthday in 2006. There was a hell of a thunderstorm and I was watching it with Dave [Myers, Si's co-star in The Hairy Bikers, who died last year aged 66] as I looked out over the River Plate, drinking a chardonnay. The hotel had kindly upgraded me to one of those suites where you can't find anything, with secret panels that opened rooms, and I felt such a Charlie because I had to call reception for help finding the bathroom. In the end I stuck electrician's tape from my bike kit on the panels so I knew where to push.
The drink that makes me feel most stylish is a gin martini with a twist, shaken so you get shards of ice foaming on the top.
The most famous person I've drunk with is jazz singer Gregory Porter at the Royal Albert Hall (although he wasn't drinking). Or maybe it was Jesus Christ – I used to be an altar boy.
The worst drink I've ever tasted is feni, an Indian drink. They crush up cashew nuts and you mix it with Coca-Cola. It is awful, like firewater from Satan's groin.
I'm most likely to sing Gerry Rafferty's 'Get It Right Next Time' after a few drinks. Me and whoever fancies joining in.
The best advice I've ever had over a drink was: 'You have some talent, so have the courage to take an opportunity if you see it.' It was from Derek, the organist at the Working Men's Club in Birtley. He was extremely talented. Where did that advice lead? To a lifetime of blagging it.
The person I'd most like to share a drink with, alive or dead, is Dave, because he left a bit too soon. We'd have a beautiful Montrachet at the seaside, bikes behind us and a telescopic fishing rod between us. We'd have spent the day riding around excited about fishing and wine! We'd need accommodation as we would definitely open a second.
