I love my beer. I don’t think this is inherently funny. And it doesn’t mean I like getting drunk (just the early stages). Though I’m in no great danger of becoming an alco, I would not find it easy to go without my one (and occasionally two) stubbies of Coopers or sometimes more exotic beer before dinner.
Now I can tell people that it might also help to prevent cancer. Like Paul Keating experiencing that moment of weightlessless at the top of one’s trajectory on a trampoline, I can pretty much feel those cancer cells dying as I relax into my yummy Coopers.