If we swapped beer with mushrooms for a week we would be existing in a world where the roads were paved with putput grass and people dressed like gnomes and rode miniature ponies to and from cottages delivering hemp hand bags to each other. That’s my idea of utopia, but we are not there now. We exist in a world where one of the most popular past times in the evenings is for lonely guys is to scult into dark bars, drink poison and hope to have sex with a girl whose nervous system has been impaired by fermented wheat juice. Great!