The illustrious members of Monty Python have all dabbled in a series of side endeavors outside their revered comedy antics. Michael Palin became the globe-trotting uncle we never knew we needed, Terry Gilliam morphed into a Hollywood directing wizard, and John Cleese and Eric Idle have engaged in their long-winded Social Media Fight Club, which—let’s be honest—feels a tad like watching two octogenarians argue over the price of a pre-owned mobility scooter.
But what about the late Terry Jones, you ask? Apart from being a comedy titan, soon to be immortalized (clad or unclad—because why not?) by a crowdfunded statue in his quaint little hometown, Jones was also the unsung hero of the beer world. In fact, the BBC recently reported on a charming little pub called the Python’s Arms, awkwardly named after the very comedians who are probably rolling in their graves from laughter. Why the name? Because this establishment resides where Jones once co-launched a microbrewery in the golden haze of the 1970s.
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In 1977, along with two other mischief-makers, Jones birthed the Penrhos Brewery, which was essentially one of the original microbreweries—think of it as the hipster’s mom and dad of today’s craft ale revolution. Amidst this frothy fiasco, he managed to churn out a few concoctions, including the illustrious “Jones’s First Brew,” which is, quite honestly, a title that could double as a cringe-worthy coming-of-age film. Later, they cranked out 100 barrels a week of “Jones Special,” or as we like to say, “Nice try, but who wants a pint of that?”
The grand opening party? Oh, locals say it was “quite a do,” which is British for “absolutely bonkers.” Imagine a gathering with celebrity guests like Palin and Led Zeppelin; it’s enough to make you wonder if they were brewing the beer or just spiking the punch with unadulterated insanity.
That same year, in an effort to promote this finely crafted ale, Jones graced the Great British Beer Festival, where he espoused the belief that “real ale” should be judged on how it “dripped over your shoulders and ran down into your boots.” Proving that the man was a true visionary, he promptly demonstrated his theory by pouring several pints of beer over his own head. Cheers, Terry, cheers!
Sadly, the microbrewery’s reign was short-lived, like your hopes on a Monday morning; however, its influence on the beer community was undeniable. Today, the Python’s Arms occupies the very location where it all began, providing ales and bitters to the locals sans the raucous visits from unrestrained ‘70s rock stars—unless you count the occasional drunken grandparent.
The pub’s owner insists it’s not some gaudy Monty Python shrine, but with a nod to humor sprinkled throughout like hops in a brew, can we really believe that? The owner chuckles that “there’s the odd nod to Terry in most of the rooms here,” including “bowler hat light shades over the bar,” a delightful reminder of his classic “Nudge, Nudge” sketch. Just don’t ask fellow patrons about their partners’ sex lives unless you fancy a swift ejection.
One wall boldly features one of Jones’ most memorable lines from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, serving as a reminder of his genius while simultaneously making patrons question their life choices. The pub has fully embraced this legacy, though whether it’s permissible to pour beer over your head to test the consistency of the brew remains shrouded in mystery—imagine the health code violations!
