The first chapter of Who’s under the influence? Spilling the History of Alcohol.
Australia’s reputation is built on a relaxed, rugged spirit, where resourcefulness meets a healthy disregard for danger. A country where a warm, friendly face is usually accompanied by a cold, frothy beer.
Once upon a time, you wouldn’t have been blamed for thinking that almost every Aussie was a laid-back larrikin who valued nothing more than a good laugh, a tall story, and a couple of pints after a long day arm-wrestling crocodiles.
Still to this day, if you ask anyone outside the country what beer an Australian drinks, the most common answer will be—Foster’s.
Long before Steve ‘The Crocodile Hunter’ Irwin shot to global fame, there was Paul Hogan and Crocodile Dundee. Crocodile Dundee was a global phenomenon, showcasing Australia to the world and grossing US$328 million in 1986—second only to Tom Cruise’s Top Gun (US$358.8 million) that year.
And where was the world first introduced to Michael J. Dundee? In an outback pub, of course! The rough and tumble of The Walkabout Creek Hotel became the global image of Australia’s social scene and painted Foster’s into folklore.
Australia’s reputation as beer-loving larrikins was further anchored when Young Einstein hit the silver screen. Set in 1905, Young Einstein reimagined Albert Einstein as the son of a Tasmanian farmer who invents the theory of relativity to be the first to split the atom… but not any atom, the beer atom—making Young Einstein the first man to put bubbles in beer.
While popular, it was nowhere near as successful as Crocodile Dundee, but it cemented the stereotype of Australians’ obsession with beer, if it wasn’t locked in already.
In the ’90s, the Simpsons firmly reinforced to the world that Australia is a nation of beer-guzzling, Foster’s-loving drongos. A country where the Prime Minister can be found floating scantly in a tube in the local billabong, with a giant can of Foster’s in hand.
A country where the beer is as large as the “big boot of justice”; a form of corporal punishment only suitable for a colony of convicts, administered by the Prime Minister himself.
But let’s clear something up: Australia banned corporal punishment years ago, and Aussies don’t drink Foster’s.
Although Foster’s screams Australia as loudly as a kookaburra, you’re more likely to find it on tap in London than in Sydney. Foster’s is a relic of advertising genius rather than an actual reflection of Australian drinking habits.
Foster’s is a lingering ghost—an almost forgotten ancestor of the Australian beer scene locally.
Before Crocodile Dundee, Paul Hogan was already the face of the nation, proclaiming to the world that “our beaches are crisp and clean, the beer’s cold, and there’s plenty of shrimp on the barbie” in the famous global tourism marketing campaign of 1984.
But Foster’s had already been doing some of the heavy lifting when it came to Australia’s international reputation. Long before that iconic campaign, Paul Hogan was the established international face of Foster’s.
This is probably why, in the Walkabout Creek Hotel, every beer bottle is inside a Foster’s stubby holder—or beer “cozzie” or “jacket” depending on what part of the world you’re from. An eagle eyed beer lover will spot that it’s Victorian Bitter inside those stubby holders.
In the 1970s, Carlton & United Breweries (CUB), which had acquired Foster’s in 1907, pushed to promote the brand internationally. Branded as the quintessential “Australian beer,” Foster’s became a massive hit abroad, particularly in the UK and the US, where it represented an idealised image of Australia.
For Aussies, it’s a foreign idea of Australian culture—packaged in a giant can with a taste that no local has ever claimed to be a national treasure.
The truth is, Foster’s is a little like Super Mario: An Italian plumber that looks Mexican, born in Japan for a North American market.
Foster’s Lager was founded in 1888 in Melbourne by a pair of American brothers, brewed to taste German, is currently owned by a Japanese company, and is produced for an international market.
Foster’s journey from humble beer beginnings has woven a rich tapestry blending beer, wine, spirits, and corporate strategy.
The story of Foster’s Lager isn’t just about beer, brand, or business; it’s a mirror reflecting the curious ways alcohol shapes—and is shaped by—our culture. Born in Melbourne, crafted to taste German by the American Foster brothers, and embraced as quintessentially Australian by drinkers abroad, its journey is anything but straightforward.
Foster’s isn’t popular in Australia today, but the brand is still synonymous with the country thanks to clever marketing and a dose of international misconception. It’s a fitting metaphor for our broader relationship with alcohol—something deeply rooted in tradition, often misunderstood, and constantly evolving.
Foster’s Lager Journey from Melbourne to the World
Foster’s Lager was born in 1888 when American brothers William and Ralph Foster arrived in Melbourne with a mission to brew a beer suited to Australia’s climate. Drawing from Bavarian brewing traditions, they introduced state-of-the-art refrigeration technology—one of the first in the country—to produce a crisp, refreshing lager that could withstand the heat.
Officially launched in 1889, Foster’s quickly gained traction, marketed as a premium beer using Victorian hops and a specially cultured yeast. Though the Foster brothers eventually moved on, their brewery’s early success laid the foundation for its growth into an Australian icon.
By 1901, Foster’s had already set its sights abroad, supplying beer to Australian troops in the Boer War—a move that not only boosted morale but introduced the brand to international markets. In 1907, it merged with five other Melbourne breweries to form Carlton & United Breweries (CUB), a strategic consolidation that strengthened its hold on the industry.
The 1970s saw Foster’s make a bold push overseas, entering the UK in 1971 and the US in 1972, using marketing campaigns that played up its Australian heritage. Later, the company expanded into wine, acquiring Southcorp Wines and globally recognised brands like Penfolds.
However, by 2011, it had divested its wine operations to refocus on beer, with its history marked by both ambitious expansion and corporate turbulence.
Since 2011, Foster’s ownership has changed three times, and the beer has been on a rollercoaster journey around the world.
SABMiller acquired it for a hefty A$11.5 billion, only to sell it a few years later to AB InBev, which struggled under mountains of debt and flailing sales. This ultimately led to the sale to Asahi in 2019 for A$16 billion.
The American brothers, William M. and Ralph R. Foster, set out to create a German-style lager in Australia. Perhaps Foster’s international legacy was destined from the beginning.
While it is convenient for the world to think that every Aussie’s sits around drinking a Foster’s, in reality, it’s easy to get analysis paralysis standing at the bar attempting to order a beer. The choice of brand and variety is seemingly infinite.
Amidst the array of new-wave sours, old-world stouts, and countless Indians full of X’s, P’s, and A’s, who all stand together behind the standard house-pour lagers and draughts—you’ll be hard-pressed to find a Foster’s amongst them in Australia.
If you can’t see the brewery, don’t drink the beer
Before the year 2000, it was simpler time for beer in Australia.
Based on your location, there’d be a different brand beer on the table, yet one easily predictable, dependant on what city or state you might be in.
Back in the early days of colonisation in Australia, there was a saying: “If you can’t see the brewery, don’t drink the beer.” The fresher the beer, the better, obviously—especially when refrigeration or the packaging we enjoy today wasn’t invented yet.
The saying might not have stayed in the vernacular, but the local beer drinking culture remained.
Australia’s traditional beer culture was a mosaic of regional loyalties, with each state flying its own frothy flags.
In Victoria, it was all about Victoria Bitter (VB)—the green-labelled stubby (aka bottle) with the iconic slogan, “A hard-earned thirst needs a big cold beer.” For Victorians, VB isn’t just a drink; it’s a badge of the working-class grit they’re proud of.
Meanwhile, in New South Wales, Tooheys holds court, be it the Tooheys New, Blue, or even Red. If you like your beer dark, Tooheys Old is for you.
Head north to Queensland, and you’ll find XXXX (that’s “Four X” to the uninitiated), as sunny and easy-going as the Queenslanders themselves—a perfect match for their laid-back, beachy vibes.
In South Australia, Coopers is the beer of choice, Sparkling or Pale, with its signature cloudy appearance and reputation for sticking to traditional brewing methods.
Over in Western Australia, it was Swan beer, embodying the rugged independence of the west coast.
Then there’s NT Draught in the Northern Territory, where everything—including the beer bottle—is bigger. The NT’s infamous “Darwin Stubby”—a colossal 2.25 litres—is perfectly crafted to quench a thirst born in the legendary Territory heat.
On the far-south island of Tasmania, with arguably the cleanest water on the planet, making everything taste a little better, you’d be sipping a James Boag’s or Cascade Lager.
But wherever they roamed, an Australian with a bit of extra coin in their pocket gravitated to Crown Lager. With its gold label and touch of sophistication, Crown Lager was the beer you’d drink when you were feeling fancy—or at least, wanted everyone to think you were.
These beers were, and still are for some, part of the cultural DNA – each with their own rich history.
Whether you’re having a VB in Melbourne, XXXX in Brisbane, or a Darwin Stubby up north, you’re not just drinking—you’re participating in a ritual, a sudsy nod to the postcode you call home and the shared love of a cold one, wherever you might be.
How to Order a Beer in Australia
Australian beer culture might seem like one big frothy pint of camaraderie, but up close, the details tell a more nuanced story. Even the act of ordering a beer reveals the little quirks that make each state unique—because here in Australia, even the size of your glass can spark a spirited debate.
Walk into any classic Aussie pub, and you’ll feel the same rustic charm: a wooden bar top worn smooth by decades of elbows, the faint buzz of a footy game on the television, and the unmistakable clink of glasses and the clunk of the pool table.
You’d think ordering a beer in this familiar setting would be straightforward, but beer politics change as soon as you cross state lines.
Glass of Beer Sizes Around Australia
In New South Wales, a 285 ml glass is a “middy,” but head south to Victoria, and the same glass becomes a “pot.”
Up in Darwin, Northern Territory, you’ll order a “handle,” while in Perth, Western Australia, you’ll ask for a “half pint.”
The 425 ml “schooner” is a safe bet almost anywhere—except in Adelaide. South Australians have gone rogue and use “schooner” to mean a pot or middy; order a pint and you’ll get a schooner, and order an Imperial if you want a pint… that’s a hearty 570ml glass of beer, to be clear. That’s the size Americans know as a 19oz beer, but for Aussies, it’s just the proper size for a decent chat.
These regional variations are more than semantics or tradition—they’re subtle reflections of the cultural identities that make each state tick.
Just whatever you do, never walk up to a bartender and simply say, “I’ll have a beer, please.” Unless you’re prepared to be a patronised patron soon after, please state your size and your beer brand of choice clearly or feel the wrath of the bartender’s glare.
Across state borders the names of a different glass size might cause a bit of confusion at first. Once you and the bar tender realise you’re both using unique home-grown terms for the same thing—beer—the differences quickly melt away.
We may have different names for a glass, but when you boil it down, we all want the same thing: genuine connection over a good story, a laugh or two and to enjoy some cold, golden nectar together. Simple.
The Decline of Beer Drinking
Australians do love their beer—just not as much as they used to. Back in the ’70s, Australia’s national pastime seemed to involve little more than cracking open a cold one, over and over again.
At its peak in 1974, the average Aussie was downing 500 bottles of beer a year. But since then, the tide has turned.
Today, beer consumption is less of a tidal wave and more of a gentle ripple, with Australians drinking less beer per capita than at any point since World War II.
The reasons for this decline? They’re as varied as the craft beer selection at your local hipster bar. Maybe it’s the rise of wine and spirits, health and fitness trends, or just the craze of the new age, with a barista serving oat-milk flat whites on every corner.
Whatever the cause, one thing’s clear: beer isn’t held in such high esteem as it once was.
The Rise of Non-Alcoholic Alcohol
Irony is alive and well in the evolution of alcohol in Australia and around the world.
Despite drinking less beer, the fastest-growing alcohol product segment is non-alcoholic beer.
Yes, you read that right. We love beer so much that even when we’re not drinking it, we pretend to be.
The same people who used to pack an Eski (or icebox) with enough tinnies to drown a kangaroo are now sipping on booze-free IPAs and waking up fresh the next day.
Is our relationship with alcohol so ingrained we need to fake it?
Is it societal pressure that makes us feel we need to be drinking, even when we’re not, just to fit in?
Is it that we love it so much, it’s better to pretend than to miss out completely?
Or is it that we just don’t want to let the social ritual go, even if we’re no longer willing to accept the consequences of a few too many?
Realistically, it’s a combination of all these things, entwined with personal choice, previous experiences, and an undefined number of alcohol-fuelled regrets.
Really, it’s just another chapter in the ever-evolving saga of alcohol and the world’s relationship with it. Since the dawn of this millennium, we’ve seen the rise of the modern craft brewery, boutique botanical gins, gold-flake vodkas, and cocktails with squid ink. As the mystics say, change is the only constant.
Foster’s Flops and Honeymoons
Alcohol has always been central to societal norms, woven into our rituals, slang, and even our humour. Take the phrase “Foster’s flop”—a cheeky nod to liquor-induced impotence, with roots in the pervasive presence of alcohol in both culture and conversation.
Yet, there was a time when alcohol wasn’t just a casual cause of impotence, but a profound symbol of fertility.
In ancient times, alcohol played a pivotal role in religious rites and fertility cults (which we will explore much later), symbolising abundance, life, and the cycles of creation and rebirth.
Through ceremonial offerings and sacred consumption, it served as a powerful link between the physical world and the divine, embodying the essence of renewal and the perpetuation of life.
Far beyond its role as a mere beverage, alcohol was revered as a sacred element in rituals that celebrated the interconnectedness of humanity and nature.
The Sweet Origins of the Honeymoon
The word honeymoon might conjure images of exotic beach resorts and loving couples sipping cocktails by the sea, but its origins are far more rustic—and even boozier!
This enduring tradition has roots in medieval Europe, where the term “honeymoon” was coined from the practice of newlywed couple drinking mead, a fermented honey-based beverage, during the first moon cycle of marriage. This wasn’t just having a glass or two, this was a month-long mead drinking session… obviously including the necessary intervals to conjugate the marriage successfully.
The honey-moon was a calculated attempt to boost fertility and secure the continuation of a family line.
Ancient Asian Origins of Mead (7000 BCE)
Mead, was often referred to as “nectar of the gods,” with a history stretching back thousands of years. Archaeological evidence shows that a form of mead, a mixed fermented beverage of rice, honey, and fruit, was consumed as far back as 7000 BCE in what is now China. Mead spread across Europe, Africa, and Asia as one of humanity’s earliest alcoholic drinks.
Mead in the Middle Ages
By the medieval period, its association with fertility and vitality was well established. Mead’s honey base symbolised sweetness, abundance, and the life-giving force of nature, making it the perfect elixir for newlyweds. In a time when marriage wasn’t just a personal commitment but a societal and economic alliance, fertility wasn’t left to chance.
Mead, Moon Cycles, and Making Love
Newlyweds were supplied with and encouraged to consume mead daily during the lunar cycle following their wedding, in the hopes of conceiving an heir.
More than symbolic—honey’s natural sugars and fermentation process made mead an aphrodisiac in the eyes of medieval societies, lending it a mystical reputation for enhancing vitality and passion.
The moon’s cycle played its part too, with the lunar phases seen as governing both human fertility and the rhythms of nature. This celestial tie cemented the idea that a honeymoon was a sacred ritual grounded in both superstition and practical desire for offspring—as well as a romantic getaway.
The consumption of mead during a honeymoon has been replaced by champagne toasts and piña coladas at poolside bars. Yet the term itself carries the weight of its history, a linguistic relic of an era when love, alcohol, and fertility were inextricably linked.
It’s a reminder that the stories behind our traditions often run deeper—and sweeter—than we might expect.
Drink Responsibly
Alcohol is a billion-dollar industry today, woven into the fabric of modern life. It’s the life of the party, the centrepiece of festivals, and the toast of celebrations.
In popular culture, alcohol often takes on a wilder persona, embodying the rascals, rule-breakers, and misfits of society.
Think Vodka Martinis for James Bond, Duff Beer for Homer Simpson, or a Mega Pint for Johnny Depp—a drink that defines the character.
Now on every bottle you’ll most likely find the phrase: Drink Responsibly. Sage advice, no doubt.
But once upon a time, those words would have carried a meaning entirely unlike today…
Would you believe there was a time when drinking responsibly meant choosing beer over water?
Hard to fathom, isn’t it? But once, beer was a primary source of hydration and the very foundation of civilisation itself.
That’s where our story truly begins; with beer, the dawn of fermentation, and the birth of society as we know it.
Let’s go back 13,000 years; back to the beer-ginning.
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Everything you thought you knew about alcohol’s role in society has been watered down.
Alcohol’s history is a cocktail of stories about mankind—incessantly shaking up traditions, mixing definitions, straining symbols of devotion, and pouring them into new vessels to match the tastes of the day. It’s often refreshing, sometimes sweet, and occasionally bitter. Although change is the only constant, spirited origins linger—hidden in every glass, diluted, and sometimes hard to swallow.
Who’s under the influence? is an entertaining, fast-paced and often irreverent revisionist remix of booze’s true impact on the world. Our obsession with alcohol has fuelled economies, ignited revolutions, and shaped cultures across history. Not just what we drink, but how it’s been sold, controlled, and mythologised.
This is not the history you were taught in Catholic school.
See how Prohibition didn’t stop drinking—it just turned crime into a global empire.
Uncover the myths and marketing behind beer, vodka, whiskey, and the world’s wine brands.
Explore how religion, governments, corporations, and cultural movements have shaped drinking habits across history.
Unveil the forgotten ties between witches and crackdowns on primeval craft beer.
Dive into the hidden history of alcohol—from sacred brews to psychedelic wine and ancient hallucinogenic ales.
Discover how beer may have been the true catalyst for civilisation and even the birth of religion.
From ancient temples to modern boardrooms, Who’s Under the Influence? reveals how alcohol has been used to empower, deceive, and transform society. Behind every sip, every toast, and every prohibition law is a story far stranger than fiction.
Whether you’re a history buff, a spirit’s enthusiast, or just someone who enjoys a good drink and a better story, this book will change the way you see what’s in your glass—and who put it there.
This is the perfect book for anyone looking for some new and sometimes outrageous stories to share over happy hour.
Who’s under the influence? is a three part book, jam packed with unbelievable facts and stories about the history of alcohol, spanning 13,000 years of history. From modern day marketing illusions to the birth of writing itself, this book proves when it comes to the history of alcohol fact is stranger than fiction.
Alcohol wasn’t just a byproduct of civilisation—it was the catalyst that shaped agriculture, trade, and religion, while early power structures emerged to regulate and control it.
As societies grew, alcohol became less about community and ritual and more about control, with religious institutions, governments, and corporations monopolising production, weaponising prohibition, and transforming alcohol from a sacred substance into a mass-marketed commodity.
Beyond intoxication, alcohol was once a tool for spiritual and mystical experiences, but its true role was buried under layers of prohibition, propaganda, and corporate (and religious) rebranding—mirroring the broader suppression of altered states and personal autonomy.
Over my professional career, I’ve had the opportunity to consult with Australia’s largest alcohol corporations and many independent beer, wine, and spirits businesses, developing and implementing brand marketing strategies.
While at university, I worked in frontline hospitality roles, managing bars, clubs, restaurants, and cafés—I was more passionate about serving drinks than my studies. My mother eventually convinced me to get a ‘haircut and a real job.’
I remember my first shift as a bartender vividly. A scorching 40-degree Australian afternoon. Getting a tour of the bar, the manager opened the fridge to find last week’s strawberries still in their punnet—too old for a garnish but too good to waste.
“Let me show you how to make the perfect Strawberry Daiquiri.” Bartenders, ever the opportunists, turning a tutorial into the perfect summer drink.
“Grab that rum, those cut limes, the syrup, and fill the blender with ice.” He demonstrated the precise liquid-to-ice ratio to achieve the perfect consistency.
“Do you see that green liqueur on the top shelf?” pointing to a bottle of Chartreuse.
“Just a dash is all you need, but first, look at the bottle for a moment—see the date on that? 1605. Can you name another item in any store that has remained unchanged for 400 years? Older than sliced bread, that is.”
And he was right. Chartreuse predates the first sale of sliced bread in 1928 by more than 300 years.
Now, most bartenders wouldn’t normally put Chartreuse in a Strawberry Daiquiri. But that’s the thing about mixing drinks—it’s always been about exploration, experimentation, innovation, and interpretation, with a dash of personal taste. One thing’s for sure: he knew how to make a damn good Daiquiri.
Unlikely themes and topics continuously intersect and connect across the world of alcohol. Like that Green Chartreuse, crafted by Carthusian monks in France—a 110-proof liqueur created from devotion and worship—finding its place in a decadent and wicked Daiquiri.
This is just the tip of the iceberg (or Daiquiri) when it comes to the surprising, seemingly contradictory, and largely overlooked connections between alcohol and the evolution of our society.
This book stems from lifelong fascinations with alcohol, marketing, and mythology—when tied together in a single narrative, they paint a completely different picture of how we got to where we are today. This is not the history you were taught in Catholic school.
