Right boys n girls pay attention. IMPORTANT NOTICE: Christmas pub ****ers, please think hard. It’s that festive time of year when decent, honest boozers are plagued by non-drinkers. And not real non-drinkers, not people who don’t ever drink, they’re fine. We’re talking about people who don’t go near a pub for 11 months out of the year, the kind of awful human beings who buy their beer from supermarkets with the weekly shop, people who consume such a laughable quantity of alcohol that they can only be designated as “non-drinkers”. Whether it’s the Christmas Work’s Do or a Festive Drink With Friends, you are ruining pubs for the rest of us. Everyone hates you. Every actual drinker in the pub hates you and all the serving staff hate you. You’re awful. Here’s a guide on how to not be quite so awful DO NOT APPROACH THE BAR UNTIL YOU KNOW WHAT YOU WANT • The bar is an intricate machine full of separate-yet-interconnecting cogs. It is NOT the place to think or choose or decide. The engine only works if everyone knows their place and performs their function. Do you hear that collective groan as you ask the Bartender if they’ve got Cranberry Juice? Or as you turn around to ask Barbara what she wants to drink? That groan is you single-handedly sucking life away from your fellow drinkers. Make a decision first, then go to the bar and order what you’ve selected. Just like ANY OTHER FORM OF COMMERCE! DON'T START DRINKING AT 4pm • You’re NOT a drinker. We haven’t seen you all year. You’re an amateur, so don’t start out with a Marathon. You can’t just rock up to the Premier League one day saying “I’m Match Fit, lads!” This is why you’re puking and crying before nine o’clock at night. YOU ARE IN A ROUND • I don’t care who you’re with, how many of you there are or how well you know them. You are in a Round with all the people you came in with. That’s how it works. You see those twenty-five loud, burly, drunken Rugby Players on the other side of the pub? They are a pleasure to serve compared to you. They order eight pints of lager, eight pints of Guiness, six pints of bitter and three Jack Daniels, then they pay the bill in one fell swoop. Your group orders ten drinks one-at-a-time and then pays for them all one-at-a-time as the rest of pub creeps closer to Death’s eternal grasp waiting for you to finish, despite the fact nine of you are drinking the same ****ing drink and the last person, THE LAST PERSON, wants a Guiness putting on. Every single person waiting to get served wants your group to die in a complicated house fire. KNOW WHERE YOU ARE • Look around you. What kind of drinking establishment are you in? Is it a pub or a bar? If there’s 85 lads watching football on the telly, stop trying to be a drunk, flirty attention-whore because it won’t work. If the walls are cluttered with offers of 6 Shots Of Neon Sourz For A Fiver, don’t try asking for that Single Malt whiskey you memorized from Mad Men. Equally, if it’s a pub adorned with wood furnishings and hand-pulls, stop trying to get the Landlord to make that ****ty cocktail you saw on Sex And The City iPHONE ETTIQUETTE • Okay, the music isn’t great. It’s nothing to write home about. But it’s been specifically selected to offend the least amount of people. It’s background music. If you want anything else, then you want to be at a club or a gig. If, however, you’ve decided to“do the pub a favour” by blaring out a playlist from your iPhone, then you are a twat. A prize, prize twat. Other expletives come to mind. Likewise don't get offended if the barman politely gives you a pound and rejects all six Abba songs you paid for. ATTRACTING ATTENTION • Newsflash: You are NOT next. You might have been in the bar queue longer than anybody else, but that doesn’t mean you’re next. Do you know why? Because there are no "Official Rules Of Queueing At The Bar." The Bartender is 100% in charge of who is next. So do not piss them off. Yes, they can see you. You do not need to bang your change on the top of the bar. You do not need to wave your money around in the air, as if you’re the only person in the room with a tenner (unless it’s a Strip Club). You especially do not need to click your fingers like a Parisian Cafe prick or whistle like a Shepherd herding his flock. These tactics will only achieve one outcome: no matter how long you’ve been waiting up until this point, you’ve just moved yourself to the back of the queue. PREFERENTIAL TREATMENT • If an old bloke sat at the bar gets served before you do, and the Bartender knows him by name and even seems to know what he’s drinking before he orders it, just shut the **** up. That’s Bob. Bob drinks here all the time. Bob drinks here five times a week, every week. Bob’s custom pays the bills. Bob and the other Regulars keep the pub open eleven months of the year whilst you’re having dinner parties and bulk-buying booze from the supermarket. Yes, they get preferential treatment. Accept it and shut the **** up. ❤️❄️☃️⛄️
A farmer went out in the snow one morning to tend to his cows and found them all frozen. A woman was passing by, breathed on them and one by one they defrosted. The farmer said to her "Are you an angel sent from heaven?", "No answered the woman, "I'm Thora Hird"
An Englishman, Welshman and an Irishman all die on Xmas Eve, to get into Heaven St Peter say to them "You must have something on you that represents Christmas" The Englishman flicks on his lighter and says "Its a candle", St Peter allows him to pass The Welshman jingles his keys and says "They're sleigh bells", St Peter also allows him to pass The Irishman pulls out a G string and a bra, St Peter asks "How do they represent Christmas?", Paddy replies "They're Carols!"
Mr Singh walks into a bank London and asks for the loan officer. He says he's going to Europe on business for two weeks and needs to borrow £5000. The bank officer says the bank will need some kind of security for the loan, so Mr Singh hands over the keys to a new Rolls Royce, which costs quarter of a million pounds. “The car is parked on the street in front of the bank,” says Mr Singh, “and I have all the necessary papers.” The bank officer agrees to accept the car as collateral for the loan. After Mr Singh leaves, the loan officer, the bank's president and all their colleagues enjoy a good laugh at the man for using a £250,000 Rolls Royce as collateral against a £5,000 loan. One of the employees drives the Rolls into the bank's underground garage and parks it there. Two weeks later, Mr Singh returns, repays the £5000 and the interest, which comes to £15.41. The loan officer says, "Sir, I must tell you, we’re all a little puzzled. While you were away, we checked you out and discovered that you’re a multimillionaire. Why would you bother to borrow £5,000?" The man replies, "Where else in London can I park my car for two weeks for only £15.41?"
