The curse of the working classes?

On Monday afternoon the members of this column's research department gathered for closed-door scientific analysis.

Suitably attired in white coats, the team were seated in our laboratory. In front of them were: a six-pack of Castle Lite and a six-pack of Hansa Pilsener.

There was grumbling from some that the test sample they were meant to analyse was unrepresentative. Where were the Zamaleks and the Peronis? Why not a Castle Lager?

As is universally acknowledged, the breathtaking profundity that is the staple of this space, with which it weekly satisfies our nation's craving for intellectual enlightenment, is premised on the most thorough understanding of the subject matter at hand, informed when necessary by painstaking research. But in times of straitened economic circumstances it behoves even A Small World to tighten its belt - hence the minuscule research sample.

We were gathered in front of said small sample of SAB products to test the assertion by the Food and Allied Workers Union that "casuals from hired labour-broking services are currently amateurishly trying to brew beer".

A minority of SAB workers have been on strike for more than a month. They're apparently happy with the increase the world's second-largest brewer has offered (7%), but not that the company wants to incentivise hard-working employees and penalise the lazy .

In the lab, the test samples were polished off, the team pronouncing themselves satisfied they could not detect any amateurish deficiency in brewing technique.

But the scientific endeavours in which they had been engaged made my researchers restive. They insisted that, in the interests of journalistic integrity and scientific rigour, it was imperative they test more SAB products in at least one other location.

"What if our sample was a statistical fluke? What if punters are being subjected to rot-gut mixed by people rounded up like cattle by an unscrupulous labour broker?"

My minions began to mutter about downing tools. I muttered back that they had already downed all the tools required for the job. However, faced with rumblings about industrial action, I agreed we would try a local hostelry. Problem was no one could drive by this stage, so we agreed we would adjourn until the next day.

Yesterday, Gladys from Accounts Receivable was designated driver and drove the team to a hostelry where they gleefully tasted SAB products .

Kurt the Builder claimed to be a world expert on Peroni Lager, but we waved him away when he failed to produce a degree certificate.

The results of our study were conclusive. The nation's biggest brewer, it seems, is managing to keep producing its full range of beers without the help of 800 stay-at-home staff, and without any discernible decline in quality.

I'm worried about the 800 who've been watching daytime TV at home for weeks (and some apparently engaging in arson and GBH when they dragged themselves away from soapie reruns).

In a perfect world Julius Malema will be the exec chairman of SAB, a world-class brewer owned by the people that pipes unlimited free Pilsner Urquell through the taps to every home in the country.

In this perfect world the dim and the work-shy shall enjoy as many benefits as the achievers and the devoted. For those who can't abide this perfect new order there will be gulag for antisocial dissidents; dissidents whose ranks would number a few from my research department. Sadly, such a perfect world is unlikely to come soon.