K Cider will never fight the stigma as the illtasting nectar of the 8.42% kind. It is a less than shiny beacon of glory that serves a painful reminder of failed lives and light wallets. Yet, in the bubble that is east london, its reputation seems to be changing. I'm not basing this on any empirical evidence but just the recent observations of the K Cider shelves in "Cheap Booze" constantly looking emptier than its Oxbridge counterpart Strongbow. Drinking K Cider encapsulates you in a vast network of dickheads who burn a layer of their tastebuds with each bitter sip. I call us together, Trampdem.
Us Trampdem are the fine folk. Let's ignore the bad press for now, and focus on us insiders. The facts of the case are: K Cider is actually quite tasty. It’s cheap. It’s 8.4%. You can get as dizzy up on two cans of K as you can on five pints of Strongbow. For £2. And it tastes alright if you ignore the putrid burning sensation. Being a fully fledged trampdem gives you an instant connection with other trampfolk. You share a sufficiently awkward moment staring each other in the eye and smile in comfort knowing that we know the secret of the ‘Refreshingly different’ K tagline. And I think that sums up its fellowship.
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