Our Prime quest ended in disappointment for my son – but not for me

My son’s obsession with Prime grew steadily through May and June. The drink was launched in the UK last autumn, backed by Logan Paul and KSI – two of the various, absurd YouTubers who seem to dominate the lives of so many children and young teens. By this spring, even Year 3 boys in our leafy provincial town had had their heads turned, and their mouths opened, by Prime’s apparent delights.

Certainly, my son seemed to know a lot about it. There is the still hydration drink, he explained – OK for kids and supposedly healthy because it is mostly just plain old H2O and coconut water; and then there is the fizzy energy version – not OK for kids because it has enough caffeine in it to provoke a sloth into running the 100 metres in ten seconds flat. Indeed, this week Canadian authorities announced a recall of the stuff for exceeding regulated caffeine limits.

My son’s mate Olly had apparently tried Prime Hydration, and was pretty sure you could buy it at Bobby’s convenience store, or possibly the petrol station at the bottom of the hill – the scarcity of the stuff seemingly a part of its attraction. One morning, in a show of great bravado, another classmate entered the playground with a bottle of the rare nectar, chugging it as heartily as those sporty boys necked their milk in the adverts of the 1980s. My son watched in awe.

We initially resisted his pleas that we buy him some, put off by the bonkers price tag and the general hysteria. In a huff, he decided to make his own, and promptly spent some pocket money on a carton of coconut water. This, carefully mixed with a little apple juice, and a dash of lemon, seemed to satisfy him after the first sip – but after a couple more he declared it unlike the real thing, and decried the entire exercise. It was, without question, utterly rank: like drinking something faintly familiar, but three months after the use by date has passed, and possibly after a stray cat has pissed in it.

The incessant commentary about Prime’s virtues continued. We promised to keep our eyes open, if only our boy would keep his mouth shut about it – a forlorn hope. But then, lo and behold, my wife did see some for sale at the local garage, and felt duty bound to pick up a bottle. It was the “blue raspberry” flavour and my son was agog.

When I came home from work that evening, he told me how delicious it was, and offered to share it – a sure sign that he wasn’t so wild about it after all. I tried it and found to my surprise that it tasted not unlike his revolting home brew. After a second try, my son admitted that he wasn’t really that keen. Maybe it would be better if it was turned to ice, he suggested. It was not.

Perhaps it was the wrong flavour, he said. A few days later, I brought home a can of “strawberry watermelon”: a final fling to hopefully end this saga. But I had failed to recall my son’s fact file: this was the energy drink, not recommended for under-18s – especially not those who cry over it when they discover their dad has made a balls-up. I let him have a sip even so, just to secure my father of the year crown, but he pronounced himself disgusted, telling me that he didn’t like fizzy drinks, or caffeine.

Waste not, want not, I thought, wearily pouring half the can into a glass. I took a sip and nearly choked in shock. It was absolutely delicious.

As a lover of fizzy pop, I shouldn’t perhaps have been so astonished. Give me a Pepsi Max Cherry, a Dr Pepper, or a can of Vimto, and I’ll be a happy man – at least until the sugar (or aspartame) hit wears off. My son’s discarded energy drink was just as tasty, and got my heart pumping to boot.

Since I’m now of an age when things that make me feel alive include fresh bed sheets, and eating so much asparagus that it makes my pee smell weird, a glassful of Prime was an invigorating experience. Thank goodness we don’t live in Canada.