Guess what? One of the most expensive coffee brands in the world is called Civet. It sells for an insane ¬£183 a pound. What makes it so special, so desirable? Well, the beans are passed through an Indonesian wild cat called a civet. By "passed through" we mean eaten, digested, then shat out whole. Then they’re put in a fancy package and sold to pretentious coffee drinkers with far too much money. According to Ben Fowler, senior buyer at Civet’s UK distributors: "The average consumer is someone looking for a rare and unique gift, wanting to obtain a luxury product, or someone who loves exploring interesting and unusual types of coffee. Someone bored by Starbucks." We were pretty bored by Starbucks so we dispatched the intern to Selfridges and spent a day drinking catcrapped cawfee. This is what went down.Hour 1
The stuff turned up in a 57-gram vacuum-sealed bag which sells for ¬£24. Although the blurb says that Civet shit-beans "make a great cappuccino", we decided not to sully it with milk and went whole hog for a cafetiere of the stuff. We even skipped the sugar. The cafetiere yielded two cups of the feline faecal brew. It tasted exactly like any other Americano at any average high street coffee house. No poop vibes whatsoever on the palate. There was an almost immediate sense of slight euphoria and my heart was going like I’d necked a whole wrap of gutter speed.Hours 2 and 3
After the initial body shock, I proceeded more cautiously. I don’t know where the whole caffeineheightening concentration myth came from but by this point I was totally zoning out and by cup four my computer screen resembled a Magic Eye puzzle. I’d also developed a chronic case of the runs.Hours 4, 5 and 6
As I loaded up the third cafetiere I was having flashbacks to stuffing the bowl of a bong with skunk way past the point you knew was sensible. It was the end of the bag so I pressed on despite serious hand tremors, a back sticky with sweat, my piss stinking of coffee and one of those uncontrollably shaky legs. I think my right eye was also palpitating in time with my fluttering heartbeat. As I drained the dregs I felt totally wrecked.Aftermath
Having finished six cups, I headed out to a show and drank a few pints, nothing major. I suddenly found myself craving junk food. After my fill of hot wings from the 24-hour chicken place in Mile End, I woke up to what felt like a hernia in my head, stabbing pains in my heart and lungs and the urge to puke and crap ceaselessly. This nauseous hell continued for the whole day. It sucked. Steer clear of cat-shit coffee. There’s nothing classy about spending all day on the crapper.BRUNO NATAL
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The stuff turned up in a 57-gram vacuum-sealed bag which sells for ¬£24. Although the blurb says that Civet shit-beans "make a great cappuccino", we decided not to sully it with milk and went whole hog for a cafetiere of the stuff. We even skipped the sugar. The cafetiere yielded two cups of the feline faecal brew. It tasted exactly like any other Americano at any average high street coffee house. No poop vibes whatsoever on the palate. There was an almost immediate sense of slight euphoria and my heart was going like I’d necked a whole wrap of gutter speed.Hours 2 and 3
After the initial body shock, I proceeded more cautiously. I don’t know where the whole caffeineheightening concentration myth came from but by this point I was totally zoning out and by cup four my computer screen resembled a Magic Eye puzzle. I’d also developed a chronic case of the runs.Hours 4, 5 and 6
As I loaded up the third cafetiere I was having flashbacks to stuffing the bowl of a bong with skunk way past the point you knew was sensible. It was the end of the bag so I pressed on despite serious hand tremors, a back sticky with sweat, my piss stinking of coffee and one of those uncontrollably shaky legs. I think my right eye was also palpitating in time with my fluttering heartbeat. As I drained the dregs I felt totally wrecked.Aftermath
Having finished six cups, I headed out to a show and drank a few pints, nothing major. I suddenly found myself craving junk food. After my fill of hot wings from the 24-hour chicken place in Mile End, I woke up to what felt like a hernia in my head, stabbing pains in my heart and lungs and the urge to puke and crap ceaselessly. This nauseous hell continued for the whole day. It sucked. Steer clear of cat-shit coffee. There’s nothing classy about spending all day on the crapper.BRUNO NATAL