****ing classic on Sunday afternoon. I got there at about 12.15 pm. a few of the usual ****ers in. Then Gaz Woodall arrives, pissed as handcarts as per. He says "the coppers'll be here in a minute, I nearly strangled the taxi driver. Everyone laughed. He's also bout 30 Cadbury's cream eggs at 10p a time as they were going out of date. He gave a few away to those with kids. About 20 minutes later, I went for my first spliff of the afternoon. I have to go around the side of the building (facing the main road) now as they worn't have it right outside the pub now..I'd just sparked it up and a cop car pulls into the parking bay outside the pub. I put it out straight away and put in in my tin. When I got round to the front, they were talking to an Asian taxi driver and taking notes. I went back in and asked where Gaz was and was told he'd locked himself into a lady's toilet cubicle. I took 15 minutes to talk him out. When he did come out he was victoriously holding his handcuffed hands over his head and screaming "Look at this, ****ing great!". It will have been a long walk back from Runcorn without his cream eggs, which has diffused throughout the boozer in the meantime. He's probably been done for racism
What I would want in an alehouse. 1) no other patrons, unless they were attractive women or came in with me. 2) prices comparable to what I could spend at home buying for myself. 3) comfortable and clean. 4) No Joni Mitchell on the jukebox. I suspect the cheese only checks one of the boxes for me. Although I'm sure introverted expats that rarely drink, isn't their target demographic.
. I might actually do that if I ever make it to the UK again. I've actually thought it would be funny to go to the cheese unexpected and pretend to be a random stranger at first and see how long it took for you to figure out who I was.
Would you give me any clues? What would your response be when I ask "Who the **** are you putting that ****ing ****e on the jukebox?"?
