Earlier this week we released a video about a goon factory. We enjoyed bringing it to you, and you seemed to enjoy watching. So in the spirit of milking everything you enjoy, we asked our bartender friend Eliza Hinds to show us how to make goon cocktails. She told us that goon cocktails don't exist, so we told her to invent some, so she did. And they're not actually that bad, some of them.

This drink is complicated. It brings the mutually opposing flavours of red goon and whiskey to the same table, and asks them to get along. In this way it's a bit like Christmas lunch. Everyone is eating foods they love. Everyone unwrapped gifts that morning. Everyone should be happy, but dad's jaw is clenched, and Grandad's new wife just broke a champagne glass by stress-gripping the shit out of it. Everyone wants to talk about the will—but they won't. They'll just. Get. Through. This. One. Fucking. Christmas lunch. Like a family.

And that's what this cocktail is like. Red goon and whiskey have no business being in the same drink but whatever! It's Christmas!

To make this monstrosity decant one egg white into a glass. Then cover with 30mls of freshly squeezed lemon juice. Free-pour as much red goon as you want over the egg and lemon, then add 60mls of whiskey. Now add a dollop of jam (we used blueberry) followed by a squirt of maple syrup. Give it a good dry shake without ice, then add some ice and shake again. Pour into a glass; place a glace cherry on the top, and well done. You've made a Very Tense Whiskey and Red Goon Sour.

Imagine walking for days under the hot sun. You're Burke, or maybe you're that racist one Wills. Your face is a mash of peeling skin, and the soles of your ruined boots flop like lolling tongues. You sleep by day, and you shuffle towards that infinite horizon by night. You're dying of thirst. You're at that point where you pray for death, until one day a man in a tuxedo offers you a drink. "Want a drink old boy?" He says in an annoying British accent. And you gasp "Water!" but he only has goon. He only has goon cocktails, so you opt for the goon cocktail that tastes the least like goon and the most like water. And he says, "Boy, do I have a cocktail for you!"

And you watch him as he prepares this… this goddam cocktail. First he free-pours some Aperol Spritz into a glass, then covers it with white goon, and then tops it off with a strong dash of soda. You ask him if you can just have the soda, but he doesn't seem to hear you. Instead he places an olive on the top of the cocktail and hands it over. And you sip it with your bleeding lips and it tastes a lot like goon, but also a lot like water. You're somewhere between euphoric and angry.

As the name suggests, this one is delicious. It'll also remind you of that time in the early 2000s when Coke introduced flavoured Cokes. What the fuck was that all about? They had vanilla coke, cherry coke, diet coke with a lemon and lime twist—which tasted like they'd wrung a KFC refreshment towel into a previously enjoyable glass of normal coke. In short, all flavours were gross and enjoyed only by children and assholes. I once knew a guy named Daniel Hill who stomped on a butterfly. I'm not even joking. I'd seen a noticeably beautiful butterfly perched on a blade of grass. I pointed it out to Daniel Hill who looked at it a moment, then stomped on it. "Those ones are poisonous," he said, and took a slurp of his Vanilla Coke. Fucking asshole.

Anyway, this cocktail involves flavoured coke, but flavoured in the right way—with red goon. Simply free-pour as much red goon as you can handle into a glass. Then add ice, and Coke to the top. Garnish it with a cherry and drink it. YUM.

You might associate mojitos with summer, but that's wrong. With a dash of white goon your summery mojito will develop a musk. It's the sort of musk you get when a bunch of people in knitwear run through a downpour to make a train and they're all hot and dripping, packed together as the train stalls between stations. You know that smell. It's the smell of winter, and it's what makes this otherwise predictable summer cocktail so intriguing. Domestic wintertime blues injected into a summertime cocktail. Magic.

First, slice up half a lime into six decent chunks. Then muddle. Take eight mint leaves and give them a few good claps to get their juices flowing. Put them in with the muddled limes, along with a heavy dash of elderflower cordial. When we say a heavy dash we mean 10mls. Follow with 160mls of random white goon, and then ice. Put into a shaker, shake the crap out of it, and pour. Then more ice, then drink. You're in for a real treat.

Enjoy!