Bar Non

In Today's Pub(lic) Post

Bar Room Bants
Pubs
That's Amaaaaaaaazing
Random Joke
Finish with a Song

Two old men, probably not much older than me shout their history over a bar, there is a six foot exclusion zone between them. Is this their punching distance, just in case.

One of the men wears Adidas jogging bottoms, he may have been a member of Run DMC.

The other has an expansive white beard, the Santa Clause of alcoholics.

Microwaved food whizzes past me almost as fast as it was cooked.

Mostly men, some shopping women.

Some eat, they look clean for their repast. The ones that drink look trampy. I’m drinking.

A blonde girl walks past me, impossibly thin, her miscoloured hair extensions swing in line with her spray on jeans. She carries to pints of cheap lager. The glasses scream the beers name, overcompensating for its poorness. I do hope she gets much needed calories from the booze.

Old men grasping carrier bags from discount stores shuffle in. I wonder how many times this “bag for life” has been used now that they are 5p. In one I can see a tin of store brand beans and a small white loaf. The staple diet of a lonely drunk.

The barmaid in clipped blonde hair chews gum as she absently mindedly serving her flock.

I’m checked out by everyone who passes. I’d like to believe it’s my dashing good looks, when really they wonder what I am writing. Maybe I’m from the DWP checking up on them. The government want them to eat cake I say let them block out their lives as the working class always have.

The great drinking classes looking through the end of myopic glasses.

And still they come with sticks and caps shouting their hello’s as they enter. I like the anti-social society in here. Nothing, has nothing to prove.

No peacock boys with bants in their pants here. No one is trying to flirt, the only thing worth pulling is the beer tap.

“Hey” one man shouts his goodbye. I feel like I’m in a sitcom, “Cheers” in a recession.

I measure time by gulps of ale, I swear me clock has stopped.

The glass doors are tinted making outside look even grimier. The pub shouts “why not stay in here where it’s as warm as the beer”

A Chinese couple perhaps lost or on the great tourist trail to great deprived towns, they argue animatedly. The man bows to his tiny chirping wife, she has to be 4 foot 7 if an inch, and I’m scared of her too.

Buses slide by outside all condensation, the passengers stare from their aquarium into mine. Is it envy they see in their eyes?

I drink and think alone. My Dad used to do the same. As I reach the age that he died I start to see the attraction. I don’t have to have to entertain to keep people amused, no need to force my concentration on things I don’t want to. I can do what I think I do best, watch and listen.

I’ve always been able to read people like a book, it’s taken me 50 odd years to realise I’m a librarian.

The door squeaks as someone walks in, you think it would be well oiled.

An alcoholic or a drink issue, today I’m on issue 55,000. On a plus side I don’t smoke, I watch the puffers outside like cigarette castaways. People walk through their smoky sauna to enter. Second class smoke causes first class cancer.

A man in a cheap suit but no coat helps his wife with her own. An old school gent in a thrift store suit. His wife walks out with her NHS walking stick, no aesthetics for arthritics’ just basic function. After all, we all want to know who the poor are don’t we.

Two studenty girls, probably roughing it, stroll in, like catwalk pissheads. They are obviously disappointed when no one looks to check them out. They make their way to the toilets to see why.

At five foot 9 I’m no giant, but I seem to tower over the clientele. It would appear that washing your internal organs in beer may shrink you. A warmer wash perhaps, I’ll drink whisky, just in case.

The two student girlies leave without buying a drink they weren’t impressed by the exhibits or the d not feed the animals sign.

My glass runs empty but my pen does not.

 Eight out of 10 adults count themselves as pub goers and more than 15 million people drink in a pub at least once a week.

There are approximately 54,000 pubs in the UK.

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More than 600,000 people rely on pubs for their employment.

The longest Pub name in England is: "The Old Thirteenth Cheshire Astley Volunteer Rifleman Corps Inn in Stalybridge", in Greater Manchester.

In Scotland many pubs fashion themselves as "hotels" because until 1976 Scottish law decreed that only hotels could serves alcohol on Sundays.

Even as long ago as 965 AD the government stepped in to curb Britain's drinking habits, when King Edgar passed a law stating that there should be no more than one alehouse per village.

The use of animals as pubs names was introduced because at the time most of the country was illiterate. This resulted in pictures of swans, horses or dogs being used to mark houses where beer was brewed.

The most popular pub name in Britain is the "Red Lion", with "The Crown" following closely behind.

Bruce Masters (UK) has visited 46,495 pubs and various drinking establishments since 1960, sampling the local brew where available, as of 29 January 2014.

Oliver Reed once said, "I want to drink in every pub and sleep with every woman"

I keep having recurring nightmares about fruit machines. My wife has been really supportive, she wakes me up with a nudge, and then holds me.

FINISH WITH A SONG

This is - 

Alan Jackson, Jimmy Buffett - It's Five O' Clock Somewhere.