Motorblog All Day I Face, The Barren Waste, Without The Taste Of Water, Cool, Clear, Water: Or so Frankie Laine sang on a record, a 78, I think, from my youth. And it seems, once again as if it, or more like the lack of it, has been Lemmy's downfall yet again - see http://www.mtv.com:80/news/articles/1505204/20050705.jhtml and my thanks to MHB Vitus McD for finding it.
In Lemmy's defence, though, I have to say I am equally unwilling to drink the darned stuff. But during my December hospital stay they were forcing it down my neck, and having a catherter bag, they can measure exactly how much you've taken in by how much comes out. And if enough didn't emerge they would dish out a fairly strict bollocking, putting in the final punch by saying 'The more you drink, the quicker you'll be going home!'
My wife, Jane, brought me in bottles and bottles of squash, and I had to force it down my neck. Of course, they serve tea and coffee also and, as I may have mentioned, this was where I changed from years of drinking coffee, to tea.
But in the past Lemmy drank the infamous 'Special Brew,' which obviously gave him more liquid to sweat out onstage, so maybe he'll be inclined to imbibe a few more beers on tour to help stave off the problem?