I didn't call someone else pathetic. I called his reply pathetic. Maybe too subtle a difference for you to understand. Of course, like Lambo I might have written something but meant something different and expected everyone to realise that, like him, what I had written was not what I meant.
You seem so smug and patronising. Is it to cover up feelings of inadequacy? Of course when I write smug and patronising I may mean smart and erudite.
Quality. https://www.facebook.com/TheStokeInnPlymouth/posts/444264989109001:0 New Year’s Eve sucks..........it’s always a disappointment, so this new year’s eve, the Stoke Inn is hosting; “Thursday night at the pub.” As usual we have a few rules...... Anyone still wearing a Christmas jumper will be taken to the beer garden and shot. Or possibly hung by the neck and left on display to deter Xmas jumpers forever more. No organisation will be necessary. No worrying about what party to go to, no panicked texting, no wondering for weeks what to wear, no caring about who feels left out or who else is going to be there. You just turn up to the pub at whatever time. There will be NO enforced jollity whatsoever. It’s only Thursday night, you simply do not have to have “THE BEST NIGHT OF YOUR LIFE THUS FAR.” On Thursday night you are more than welcome to pop along and have a perfectly normal time on your own in the corner completing the Times crossword if that is what you want to do. Or play scrabble with your mates. Especially if you deal with other people all day long in your job and just want to be on your own for a while before going home to be a perfect stranger amongst your nearest and dearest. The regulars, including “Sir Bob” will continue to get preferential service. They pay the bills for the other 364 days of the year and we know what drink they want, in what glass, at what intervals. Just because you are in the queue first, we are far more worried about Bob having a good time than we are about you and your complicated drinks order that you get wrong, fail to remember in one hit, forget that she said “diet” in front of coke and leave us with a Malibu and coke to fester behind the bar because no-one else will drink it and it gets thrown away; thus relieving the landlord of the entire profit from three of the four drinks that you managed to mangle with your order. When you ordered the Guinness last you joined the landlord’s list of Christmas Drinker Twats. There will be no countdown to midnight. In fact, unannounced, the bar will probably shut at ten to midnight and re-open at five past, because if you must toast the new year in (quietly), then you should have purchased your drink in advance. All bar staff dread that rush of loud and desperate people who are utterly incapable of buying in good time. It proves you only come out approximately once a year under duress. This especially applies to people who have pre-loaded cheap supermarket booze at home and arrive, pissed, at the bar at five minutes to midnight expecting to magically become part of a scene into which you have thus far contributed absolutely nothing. You will be ignored whilst the bar staff have a sneaky drag out the back. No mass snogging at midnight. A peck on the cheek to those who are part of your group is permitted but, just as in every other night of the year it is simply not done to try and snog everyone. Nor is it welcomed by every single member of the opposite (or same) sex. Auld Lang Syne will not be sung. Most people only know three words anyway . Anyone in fancy dress can join the pile of bodies in the beer garden. The pub will be the same. At five minutes to midnight there will be no difference from five minutes after. You will not suddenly be having a much better time than last year. You will have exactly the same hopes and disappointments as you did ten minutes ago. Feel free to acknowledge that any resolutions made at this time are invalid under these rules, and anyway those resolutions are exactly the same one’s that you promise yourself every week. You are not even allowed to join the gym for two weeks after “Thursday night at the pub”. (I have just saved you a ton of money by the way.) The same goes for diets. Thursday night at the pub will not include a ****e band that normally costs the landlord £180 but because it’s new year they want £400 to play a few covers which, if you are honest are just a little....weak. There will be no “Air Of Quiet Desperation” from 1.00am onwards, when you realise that all the sensible ones have pre-booked their taxis home, you have failed to meet the boy/girl of your dreams and all the taxi firms are quoting a two hour wait. Your job then is to stoically recognise that although you have been enjoying a Thursday night at the pub, everyone else has had a ****e night elsewhere and is desperate to get away. Your best chance is to start walking home quite frankly. There will probably be some sort of toast to honour the nurses, doctors, serving military personnel, waiters, barmen, police, emergency workers, taxi drivers, volunteers and other people who don’t have to suffer enforced jollity on new year’s eve, but do have to suffer enforced sobriety on that night just so that others can go out and have a thoroughly miserable night.
Well if there are any good recommendations its a good job that none of the players get even close to reading this forum. And I guess Brucey who likes a good red does not read it either since all your great suggestions seem to get ignored!
I'm off to buy a couple of bottles of Baileys and a bag of ice to go with it. Rock and ****ing roll. On a side note I had a colonoscopy today and was told that due to being under sedation I; A. should not return to work tomorrow and B.I shouldn't drink alcohol tonight. A. is obviously sound advice. B. is clearly a load of bollocks.
Glad this thread is back on the alcoholic track I topped up today with a few IPAs. Lagunitas, Goose Island and Sierra Navada Torpedo Oh and also got s couple of red wines as presents...which is always handy I just need to decide where to hide them so the guests can stick to Peroni and Becks
On Sunday I had a pint of Ringwood Best Bitter and half of Carling for the wife, £5.40 for ****s sake. The bitter went as flat as a fart in minutes. I buggered off home and glugged down a couple of 49 ers. I was a bit fed up to tell the truth, lazy Sunday afternoons are so easily disrupted by family visits. The wife was carted off to some new age carol service and I was on my own, I had planned to go through my dvds of old war films, but I channel flicked to see if "The Longest Day " was being repeated and there it was "Ice Cold in Alex" my favourite old un. ****ing bliss! Bag of peanuts, pint of ale and the cruel anticipation of seeing a mark one landrover in the background at the end of a film set six years before they went into production...
Hope that all went well with the old arse investigation. Having undergone this procedure before myself I totally get your 'On a side note' gag. Those invasive camera virgins will be looking skywards for the wit that flies above their heads on that one. I remember the sedation being of the rohypnol variety, and it playing Jiminy Jinks with my decision making processes for the next few hours. With hilarious results. I'm sure that that explains you kicking off the old ice in Baileys riff again. Just for the record: Ice in Baileys. That'd be a no. Mint Baileys. That'd be a no. Caramel Baileys. That'd be a no. Rosemary and Spearmint Baileys. That'd be a no. And so on. And so forth. I have however discovered a slight exception. Earlier this month I was dragged to Cologne Cathedral Christmas market by some crazy German colleagues and made to consume a glass of molten red wine with cloves and cinnamon and **** in it. The taste of hot ribina, mixed with mouthwash and essence of spicerack will haunt me forever. I refused a second glass of the devil's own hot piss and was persuaded to try a hot chocolate laced with Baileys. Now this wasn't half bad, although I would at the time have drunk ditch water out of a tramp's sock in an attempt to rid myself of the foul taste of the Spirit of German Christmas. You'd almost think that the mean buggars take pleasure in the misfortune of others.
Tell you what Ern that solution they give you to sup the day before is a joy to behold. The actual intrusion of your anus is nowt compared to drinking that stuff. Just about to have a Baileys with 2 x cubes of ice added.
