The medicine-registration leaflet of herbal remedies provide unexpected amusement. Outside politics, one wonders, can less be said in more formal-sounding words?

I’m one of those people who enjoy bitters. Not just rock shandy, not just sweet Jägermeister. Not just the light aromatic aperitif-style stuff, but heavy stomach bitters, as an after-dinner or night-cap digestif. The stronger, the better. There’s nothing quite like sipping a small glass of Fernet-Branca, Unicum or Underberg along with a tall glass of ice water.

Jurgen Gothe, an upstanding member of the Canadian cognoscenti, writes a fine paean to all things bitter, in All hail Fernet-Branca, the foulest liqueur on Earth. Hail, indeed.

So it was with some pleasure that I discovered, in my local pharmacy, a concoction known as Schweden-Bitter, made by PharmaNatura, “the natural medicine company”. Despite its relatively low price (compared to, say, Fernet-Branca), it compares pretty well to digestif bitters you’d find in the better bars or liquor stores around town. It’s less smooth and rounded, perhaps, but look, this is supposed to be medicine. Forget castor oil. This is the stuff I’d feed to moaning brats complaining about mysterious stomach pains to get off the homework hook.

Still, Schweden-Bitter isn’t a scheduled drug, or anything. So it was with some surprise that I discovered a package insert, just as the law requires of real medicine. Apparently, it is classified in the pharmacopoeia as “A. 34 Other”. Seeking somewhat greater clarity, I turned to the pharmacological action, which is described thus:

This preparation is designed to correct imbalances within the unhealthy body and so enables the organism itself to overcome the disease condition. The constituents in their indicated form work accordingly.

Okiedokey, then. Glad we cleared that up. A friend, who’ll remain nameless, said: “You see, that makes perfect sense to me.” But then, I’ve long ago given up arguing with them about what does and doesn’t make sense.

There’s more. After all, this is a very official and quite formal medicine registration notice, as required by Act 101/1965.

Side-effects and special precautions: None known. Known symptoms of overdosage and particulars of its treatment: None.

Now I’m no doctor, and I have no clue what any of the 20 curiously-named herbs from which this “ethanolic extract” is distilled might do to a person, in great quantities. And to be fair to the makers, it is not recommended to exceed the maximum dosage of a teaspoonful four times a day.

But I do know what a concoction that contains 40% alcohol per volume could do, and I can guarantee you, this piece of paper isn’t going to get me off the hook if I have a few tots of this good stuff and get behind the wheel. I’m also fairly convinced alcohol has symptoms of overdosage (though I am, of course, entirely innocent of the particulars of its treatment).

Now, let’s assume a tot of this stuff to be equivalent to a standard drink, which is about right, given the alcohol content. Based on the information on alcohol overdose kindly published by John Brick, Ph.D., M.A., F.A.P.A., of the Rutgers University Centre for Alcohol Studies (when I grow up, that’s where I want to work), consuming a bottle (500ml) of this stuff in four hours has a 50% chance of killing a 90kg man.

I’d think death is a fairly significant symptom of overdosage, though I can see why they’d omit the particulars of its treatment.

Now, for that tot I just photographed. Your health!