Critic Booze Reviews | Malibu

Critic Booze Reviews | Malibu

You should only drink Malibu if you never, under any circumstances, are the one paying for it. Yes, it’s fruity and delicious. Yes, drinking it makes me want to show everyone my cute new bra at a party. But Jesus Christ, it is expensive for what little alcohol it holds. Buying Malibu at a liquor store is pretty much the equivalent of buying cocaine at a Ponsonby party. Both will only get you half an hour of a good time, before you are faced with crippling reality in your sock and sliders combo. In the future, just stick to white rum and crack like the rest of us.

Malibu, as a rule, is too sweet to drink by itself, and should only be used as a mixer. Which is basically code for: don’t buy it, lemonade is fucking 80 cents a litre. Malibu is your high school friend that you hug when you run into town, say “omg hey!!” to, and then promptly get the fuck out of there. It is a sweet, slippery devil, my friend. You are more likely to get a sugar rush than drunk, which is a good situation for, I don’t know, an 8 year old? I’m presuming you’re not reading this in primary school, although if you are, good for you kid. Extra curricular reading should always be encouraged.

Sure, Malibu has a nice coconut flavour, and yeah, coconuts are a good time. I’m all about that tropical life. But perhaps scratch your tropical itch with a good ol’ fashioned Hawaiian shirt. You heard me. It’s controversial, I know. A Hawaiian shirt? In this party climate? But listen, I think it will go down a real treat. The ladies will love it. Stay away from Malibu - the drink AND the place in California. I can’t go back. Don’t make me.

 

Taste Rating: 4/10

Froth Level: Primary school jump jam

Pairs well with: Another, much stronger, much cheaper alcohol

Tasting notes: Picking coconuts from the coconut tree

nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah

Biggest coconuts that you ever see

nah nah nah nah nah nah

This article first appeared in Issue 11, 2019.
Posted 8:05pm Thursday 9th May 2019 by Sinkpiss Plath.