The internet is alive with the sound of moaning. This week’s subject of derision — though there are a few defenders — is Dublin’s Palmerstown House pub. The Palmerstown has pinned up posters encouraging drinkers to order a “60/40”, a blend of 60 per cent Guinness 0.0, and 40 per cent regular. “Full flavour, less alcohol” is the sell. Reads the pub’s hitherto quiet Instagram account: “All of the Guinness character, just a little lighter!”
It’s served the usual way, using the two-part pour, but the booziness drops from 4.2 per cent for regular pint to just shy of 1.7 per cent. Out for a Christmas session? Theoretically, you’re good for about twice as many pints. Or, as the top comment reads: “Genius — now I can have 8 and drive instead of 5.” Good news for the hangover, bad news for the wallet.
Fair enough? Not fair enough, if the other comments are to be taken seriously. “Sorry, I don’t do cocktails…” says one. “Ring the Guards. The Guards are to be rang,” reads another, nodding to the Irish police force. “I’d rather see Dave Lee Travis play Macbeth,” is one whimsical take; “A load of nonsense” a rather more straightforward one. Some think the idea should be illegal; others have labelled it a cheap marketing ploy — a way to shift unsold zero, or just to rake in cash from thirsty drinkers in the bar spending longer finding their buzz.
Maybe it is, or maybe it’s just a way to be a little healthier over silly season. One thing it definitely isn’t, though, is new. Why is everyone suddenly in such a tizz?
Look at last year. This time last year, the Standard published an article headlined: “Think you really know Guinness? Ask for a pint of semi-skimmed”. What is semi-skimmed? You guessed it: a blend of zero and regular. At the time, Lara Rogers, a manager at the Devonshire in Soho, where both zero and regular are on tap, told the Standard: “We don't do a half-and-half, but can top up the Zero with regular Guinness if someone asks; that makes it about one per cent we reckon. So we do full fat, skimmed or semi-skimmed.”
Before that? There was Guinness Mid-Strength, introduced in 2012 at 2.8 per cent. It was, in fact, a clever way for Guinness owner Diageo to take advantage of the then-new 50 per cent duty tax discount on beers at 2.8 per cent or below. It did not sell well, and died a swift death. Even that wasn’t the first run of it: it had been tested in Limerick in 2006, extended to Dublin in 2007, reached Scotland in 2009... and was never popular.
Perhaps this 60/40 will be, despite the sneering comments. Maybe it will be a regular pour at the new Guinness Open Gate Brewery, an enormous operation opening in Covent Garden this December. Maybe.
Guinness is more popular than it’s ever been, a far cry from its nadir two decades ago, when sales were in steep decline. Around that time, even a photoshoot with President Obama at the height of his popularity did nothing for sales. Today, there’s a Netflix series dedicated to the family history. Tastes change, trends come and go. At least now we rely on places pushing a blend of zero and regular, but calling it something new. May Christmas 2026 be the season of Guinness Light Roast.
