On the 19th May 1759, a bloke called Arthur started brewing beer in a disused brewery in St James’s Gate in Dublin: copying a London beer style and making a stronger version, known as “extra stout porter”. He started exporting it into the UK ten years later. Little did he know that he was starting one of the most recognised beer brands in the world: a brand that’s just as famous in Nigeria and Indonesia as it is in Dublin or London.

I had a book once about the Guinness brand. Guinness Is Guinness was written by a man in advertising, someone who’d done work for Guinness, and someone who came across, frankly, as rather a corporate shill for Diageo, the drinks conglomerate who owns this brand these days. But the book was well-written and, once you’d got past the bare admiration for the people who’d doubtless paid for this man’s bright red glasses and braces, it was very interesting to see the control that Guinness place on their brand: that the glass had to be given to the customer with the logo facing the customer, that the temperature had to be just right (5 celsius for the normal stuff, 3 celsius for the extra-cold), and that there are constant patrols of brand guardians ensuring this is done.

Tonight, as a guest of Diageo, I was able to join the London Blogger’s evening, with the promise of tasting some irish whiskey (er, no) or the Guinness range (er, aha). I turned up to find a nice man with a Guinness-branded ruler measuring the head on his Guinness, and shoving a temperature gauge into his pint, to check that it was the right temperature. (I was first in. Slightly early. Whoops.)

“Have you ever poured a pint of beer yourself?”, he asked. Well, no. Not as it happens. So he showed me how to pour a pint of the black stuff – including the main pour, the wait, then the top-up, all 119.5 seconds and 198 kcal of it. (I’m convinced this is pour/wait/topup nonsense is marketing hokum, incidentally. Absolutely convinced. Great differentiator, but complete rubbish.)

There’s something slightly odd about standing in a fake bar in a drinks company, with a bizarre mix of Guinness television ads (“Tipping Point”, since you ask) and slightly scary ads warning you to drink in moderation. I rather embarrassingly had my Guinness cufflinks on (given as a christmas present one year), and my ID badge hangs from a Guinness lanyard (bought on my last day of working for Virgin Radio, in Dublin). I might have looked a little like a Guinness groupie. I guess I might be – even though I only drink Guinness when the pub I’m in is rubbish enough not to sell proper ale. I guess I’m a groupie of the brand, rather than of the drink itself.

But, it’s very clear that the Guinness man I met was extraordinarily proud about the product he sold. “I’ve worked for the company since 1979″, he said, “and I’ve only ever not wanted to come into work twice.” Working for a great brand, doing something you really enjoy, is clearly highly rewarding. I was rather jealous of him.

This year, I’ll be enjoying St Patrick’s Day on holiday in Malaysia. But just like everywhere on earth, I’ll have no problems finding a Guinness: they even brew it there. I’ll raise a glass to you in the South Asian heat.

Guinness