Posts archived in best-of
Disclosure: the nice people at iShot sent me a few review samples of their new products. No money changed hands, and no consideration was asked for, offered or given in regard to anything regarding this review or the site – all content remains completely independent.
Doesn't come with an App Store. Does come with a great buzz.
I write this blog because I like doing it. Sure, there’s some advertising on the side, but I try to keep it as targeted (hence going through Google AdWords) and unintrusive as possible. So it makes me excessively happy when someone asks me to review their stuff, and even happier when they send me some of it to review without me having to actually get up and leave my chair. iShot, you have done well.
iShot have two products fresh to the market. The first one, which I’m dealing with here, is the more traditional caffeinated energy shot. The second is to be reviewed in a following post, but it’s basically the same thing with more ginseng and no caffeine.
So enough talk, let’s get down to it.
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'Mixed Fruit flavour' is always a cop-out for 'flavoured by whatever we had to hand'.
The local pound shop. Home of mewling children running riot. Home of Chinese-made discount garden equipment that is almost certain to probably not be likely to break while you’re digging a hole, stabbing you right in your filthy imperialist balls with its glorious proletarian might. Home, too, of whatever the owner could get hold of in the way of energy drinks, because God knows the markup on those things is beyond belief.
So, today, we deal with the Hitz Energy Shot. I was going to review another of the same company’s product range that I picked up in the same pound shop, but the consequences of drinking it were so horribly hilarious that I just can’t find the words to describe it right now. The words ‘erect’, ‘fire’ and ‘nystagmus’ will be involved when I finally do get round to it.
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This is a guest review from Matt Carroll (aka Oholiab, Oholeibummed and OI, FUCKO). He is a shaven-headed misanthropist from the barren post-apocalyptic wastelands of Gloucestershire. He would eat you and your family without blinking.
Why would you drink an energy shot, really? They taste like ass, they’re goopy and they come with something of a promise to make you feel uncomfortable.
Never say we don’t research anything for you. Here are the reasons:
- Neat little bottles – You know you want to put a whole load of them on like, a bullet belt. No? Well I do, so get bent.
- It is cold outside – You don’t want your hands to get cold carrying a refrigerated can that will take time to drink, as you have to wear fingerless gloves in these winter months so you can still use your capacitive touchscreen devices. You young’uns and your newfangled technology.
- You are actually too goddamn lazy to drink a full can of Red Bull.
So taking these reasons into account (all of which are precisely why I picked it up – I can feel you judging me, and I care not), I would say that the Red Bull shot not only gives you wings, but nuclear-powered robot ULTRA LEGS. It’s better, in fact, than the Relentless shot. Which is just as well as it costs more.
I can see the naming meeting now. 'MORE WORDS. MORE TWITCHY LINES. MORE ACTION, DAMN YOUR EYES.'
It seems that the energy shot market is booming. Something that was fairly unknown in this country just a few months ago has blossomed into something you see in cardboard display boxes in dodgy newsagents nationwide. Naturally, this is music to my ears, and when my flatmate found the latest in an established brand producing an energy shot he brought one home for me to shove down me and process for Science.
You can tell that this comes from an established brand simply by looking at the label design. Namely, it doesn’t look like it contains excess coolant from a Chinese sprocket factory – some actual effort and money has gone into its design. The name, however, is nothing less than hilarious. I get that they wanted to put across that drinking it would result in waking up, but seriously – ‘Alert Plus’? They might as well have called it ‘Rocket Nitro Supermax 5000′.
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Beautiful snowflakes. Snowflakes that will have you humping the wall for HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS.
MarshallStaxx here with my inaugural post for Don’t Sleep, Dave! in which I shall fearlessly explore some of the ‘heavier’ legal stimulants out there.
My first encounter with Mephedrone was when a friend stumbled in one evening, wasted, and exclaimed “We’ve been snorting plant-food all night, and it’s awesome!”. Naturally, my first reaction was to think “You retarded junkie, you’ll stick anything up your hooter for a high”, laugh in derision and head off to bed, half expecting to find him in the morning slumped lifeless over the coffee table with blood trickling from his ruptured nostrils and begonias sprouting from his ears, like some nightmare OD genesplice of Sid Vicious and Alan Titchmarsh.
He didn’t die. Turns out he had a pretty amazing time. According to him it was just like MDMA, but with no hangover. My interest was piqued. Read the rest of this entry »
Quick? Yes. Healthy? Probably not. Energy? Hold on to your underwear.
I found this garish monstrosity on an adventure to find beer a few weeks ago. After being promised ‘Quick. HEALTHY. ENERGY.’, I couldn’t resist inviting it back to my flat with the intention of letting it slide itself inside me.
See, now I feel dirty. Anyway.
One thing that I’ve learned from my experience with energy shots is that they taste really quite bad. This is to be expected – generally, psychoactive chemicals don’t taste very good at all, so a strong flavouring gets added – but this stuff took me by surprise. It’s very similar to drinking neat orange squash – very sickly, quite persistent but not entirely unpleasant, and for an energy shot that’s pretty high praise.
One thing that I’ve decided to do with these energy shots is to actually take a look at the liquids themselves. This is no exception, so I poured it out into a shot glass emblazoned with the Jack Daniels logo – in the hopes that Almighty Jack, our Lord and Saviour of shitty clubnights, might look down from on high and bless this endeavour. And by ‘bless this endeavour’, I do of course mean ‘stop me from getting a massive fucking heart attack’.
Fortunately, I’m still writing, so I must have done something right.
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