Please retell some of your infamous or favourite pub stories here. What pub, how old you were, who you were with.
the day we beat leeds united in 2006, me and my mate went celebrating around town.. after a few drinks we wandered into one of favourite haunts which we hadnt been in for a while- Mr Q's, usually a place with decent old school music, a few birds and a good laugh. we noticed on walking in that it had gone under a facelift and looked different, there also seemed to be a different crowd but couldnt quite put our finger on it, we ordered our pints and where chatting about the usual ****..then we noticed the blonde dj behind the decks, and as we had in most pubs that night we wanted the " we all hate leeds" tune on (dont know its real name) my mate went up to ask, also keen to chat to the blonde spinning the wheels of steel,- "excuse me love, any chance you can put, that tune on -we all hate leeds" in that moment, the blonde turned around, adams apple in full sight who responded, in a husky voice why would i do that when im a leeds fan.. all of a sudden we noticed the afore mentioned new decorations, the velvet curtains and silk drapes.. also noticed the new crowd consisted of men sat together, and girls who looked like men sat together....we have never drank a pint so fast and scarpered, it was an only fools and horses type moment!
Very similar thing happened to me and seven mates in a boozer in Bristol. Just as the penny dropped with NFU I could see that exactly the same time six of my mates had clocked we were in a gay pub. Only problem was the gobbiest ****er with us had gone for a slash as soon as we walked in, the toilets being down some stairs. It didn't go down well when he emerged and shouted in his cockney accent " It's a facking irons pub fellas". The gay contact mags in the khazi had alerted him of this fact and he thought it was wise to share his findings with the whole pub. All of which( bar me and my mates) were in the place for that very reason. Supped up and ****ed off sharpish. I have another story about the same kid and the Polar Bear, unsurprisingly with a similar outcome .
One night in the summer of '76, I was in the 'Little Welly' pub at the bottom of Peel Street, with the friends I shared a flat with. Suddenly a bloke ran in through the street door (we were in the Lounge). He was carrying a babe-in-arms and, as he rushed past me, he popped the baby on to my knee, with the words: "Can you look after this, mate?" He disappeared behind the counter, into the Bar and then, just like the Keystone Cops, three plods ran into the room we were in. As they chased past, obviously after the geezer, I asked them if they were looking for a baby. It turned out they were after the fella, who'd lifted his (and his partner's) baby and she'd dropped the coin on him.... '76 was a great summer!
A gang of us went into Yorkshireman a few years back and thats gone the same way too. Red velvet drapes everywhere, pictures of Lily Savage like entertainers all over.
I was once in Bass House, and as older readers will recall the ladies was always a big queue. So i went to the mens and theres a bird having a p1ss in the trough, the trough!! Dirty old boiler. 3 other munters came out of the sit down toilet, said hag just went i couldnt fukin wait. Didnt even wash her hands either.
In Oasis Wine Bar down Albion St and my mate had a piss into a wine bottle. He then put it into the fish pond for 5 minutes to cool it down. As we were walking out he proffered it to a gang of pissheads and said he didnt like it. They happily filled their glasses with it and drank it down!!!
yeah , think its called propaganda now....used to go to a little takeaway down the side ran by a guy called paul... once i was telling him this story, and a couple of butch ladies behind me in the que took exception to it, and threatened to " smash my face in".. i was faced with the dilemma of is it ever right to hit a woman, even when she looks like Mr T, luckily paul bailed me out and told them to get the **** off his property!..good egg paul, dont think he works in that area anymore tho
Since i've made it clear what happened to me in Blackpool this season. Here's Blackpool Part II- The night out. Me and my mate were dancing round the working mens club, where we watched the match, to the sound of the 60s when Guzzler turned up and the bar staff immediately stopped serving him. I didn't help things when i bought him a drink and left. They weren't happy. Can't see me ever getting a pint off him in return. I prevented my mate from getting his head kicked in by an angry dad, when i got back to the hotel. Must have been mistaken identity from an incident that happened at Burnley pn Boxing Day. We went round the establishments in Blackpool, opting for the worst pub out of the bunch, a place called Nelly Ds. My mate picked it because he didn't want to stay in a packed place. Luckily for him this pub was dead. I can't remember all the ins and outs of the night, but my mate said there were two pretty much getting it on in the corner of the room. We still bloody stayed though. From what i remember we were the only ones dancing- doing "oops upside your head" on the dancefloor with everyone watching us. The pub had a karaoke machine and my name was put down to do "i just can't wait to be king" from the Lion King, until my mate got caught trying to pull his own pints and we were made to leave. From there we went on to some other places, but the night form then on became a bit of a blur.
Ye that would be Bun in the Oven. He moved across road for a bit. Back in the 80's it was about the only place open for food on a Sunday night. It was always a place for a few scraps.
He used to have a coffee house - the Jacaranda - in little Grimston Street, right near the Nick (in the early 60s). In those days, there were very few places open late at night. So there were some odd things happened there......
I used to have a courier firm. I was asked to supply a van to do some parcel delivery work. I liked to do the first job for any new work myself just to get the lay of the land. I turned up at the yard and the loader put packs of news papers and magazines in the back. I didnt take any notice of what they where I just counted them on and picked the paperwork up. First drop was a Sexual Health Clinic, second a Gay Mens welfare unit and so it went on. The newpapers were called the Pink Times and Gay News. The last drop was to a pub in Salisbury. I carried stack after stack of papers into the bar and after I had finished the Landlady offered me a pint of bitter. I sorted out the delivery notes after the pint, but then upset the Landlady. The pub was called the Duke of York and I asked her "Was the pub called the Duke of York, because he had ten thousand men"? She went ****ing ballistic! Two weeks later and I had the same job, same deliveries etc. Last drop was the Duke of York. I unloaded all of the papers out of the van, just in case it kicked off. A bloke comes out and starts to help carry them in. He offers me a pint, "Sorry for the other day mate, I didnt mean to lose my temper with you, but I only got the joke after you had left, I thought you meant me". I never went back.
Do you remember Club 51 on Spring. Bank.? Was officially a gaming club with a late supper licence. Load of bollocks really but you could drink till 2 am. Joining fee was about 2 and sixpence per year. When I was earning about £8 per week, saw a bloke lose £700.00 on four hands of chemin de fare. He was at the table less than 10 minutes. Put me off gambling for life. Seem to remember Wayne Fontana playing the Jacoranda one night but may be getting confused. Happy days.
Same kid comes to visit me back In '97. We were in the daft and barmy together. We arrange to meet my mates around team time, probably 4ish in Linnet. Daft lad( him, not me) wants to do an all dayer so we start off in town. The obvious route is down Spring Bank so off we set. I jokingly tel him there's a gay pub en route and does he fancy going in there. "No facking way" he says. I think we'd done Spring Bank Tavern, that Hole in the Wall place and just as we approached Polar Bear my mate says he wants a piss. He sees the PB approaching and says "'let's bob in here" "You sure ?" I ask him. You know the rest.
I lived above 51 Club in 67/68. PennyFarthing opposite. Late-night punch-ups in the middle of Springbank. The biggest gamblers were the Chinese, who arrived after the restaurants closed. The owners were Derek Mole (antique dealer) and Bruce Witty (who was my landlord). Fantastic spot to live.
In the early 70s the PB was a straight (but very mixed clientele) pub. Albert Broady, the landlord, ran a tight ship. He used to come round the pub after they'd called time, loudly saying: "On your beers now. Come on lads and lasses - on your beers". He had a particularly grating and piercing voice, which cut right through the hubbub. One night he was extra nasty-sounding with his "On your beers" and this extremely bladdered kid stood up, climbed on his stool and on to the table, where he proceeded to flatten all the glasses. Albert went ballistic and I fell off my stool laughing. People were wetting themselves. Ah - the old Polish...!
Bloody hell. Spot on about the Chinese. They used to hover behind the seated players and then wait until there was an opportunity to bet against the bank. Struck me that was a less risky option than playing the individual hands. Remember the Penny Farthing across the road but it was Locarno or Club 51 for our after hours drinking. Then a long walk home back to East Park area if it was warm night and we had not got lucky.!
