randomrabbit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Having had nothing more adventurous than a small rodent up my bottom, I�m not sure I'm qualified enough to comment Now I think about it, rubbing each other�s trousers in the changing rooms at the gym to see if Kevin�s were as rough as mine (the new ones I bought feel unpleasant) probably looked a little odd. We weren�t wearing them at the time, fortunately, but were stood in our underwear, which is obviously much better. We probably spend much too much time together. I don�t mind walking to work in the cold or the snow or when it�s pissing down, but the wind can go fuck itself for me. It�s horrible and makes my hair all crazy arsed. I was asked a couple of months ago what I thought about moving offices so my boss can have mine, because he�s suddenly craving solitude, presumably so he can wank himself in to oblivion over pictures of Nigella Lawson in peace. I said I didn�t like the idea, thank you very much, and nothing�s been said after that. Yesterday though the MD told him that the general manager is moving in to his office with him (and the MD. Cosy), and caused the mardy bum to storm out last night, apparently, and me to snigger like a pillock this morning. Since I�m last in the chain though he�ll definitely now take my office and I�ll have to go work in the car park or something. Or have to share, which has knock-on implications for me knobbing about all day. Bastard. I hope his swivel chair malfunctions and impales the hairy fucking twat-stick right up the arse. Banging on to my dad about how they�d made another one of my pubs all poncy, he said he didn�t think pubs were ever the same since they got rid of pianos from them! Well cheers Mr. I was in a skiffle band. Our points started to diverge a little there. And when exactly did they even have pianos in pubs? About 1902. But it did get me thinking. Well, no that�s a lie, it didn�t, but I�m bored and fancied something to do so I tried to come up with 10 things a pub should have, do, shouldn�t do etc! George Orwell tried it, admittedly in 1946 and before the discovery of karaoke, and came up with among others: Victorian fittings, motherly barmaids with peculiarly dyed hair, no music and pints served only in glasses with handles or better still strawberry-pink china mugs. George Orwell was a cock and wouldn�t have known a decent pub if it sat on his face and farted. Stick to writing about cups of tea, you dead, pernickety shit. So yes. A good pub should: 1. Be furnished. Chairs I find useful for sitting and tables handy for supporting drinks and such. Other than that there isn�t really a furniture formula except maybe no settees as you end up sitting about three miles away from people. And none of that business where they try to be all jaunty and have mismatched chairs and tables. That�s annoying. And no �Australian-style� pubs. And if it�s an Irish pub you�re not allowed barrels for tables. The last time I was in the Dog and Partridge there was a very very drunk Irish chappy shouting at me that it was a catholic pub while I was peeing at the side of him, except because he was talking to me he was facing me thus side on to the urinal and pissing on the floor. Sorry, what was my point? 3. Not have pub sports � pool, darts etc. Drunk people shouldn�t be allowed pointy things. And pool tables are the haven of the twat. Sometimes when you�re playing you get a couple of said twats asking for a game then they start saying things like �4 balls have to hit off the break, or 7, whichever�s the highest. 2 shots carry unless they don�t�� and you really have no clue what the dopey little piss-weasels are going on about so you end up having to take off your shoes, fill your socks with pool balls and beat them to death with them, which isn�t ideal. 4. Have a jukebox. I wasn�t sure about this one. But the alternatives are a bit crap: No music, a TV mute or otherwise, live music - which roughly translates as some ropey old tart singing Celine Dion or Rectal Dandruff the landlord�s son�s mate�s thrash metal band. Or a Lighthouse Family CD. And generally punters tend to have half decent taste. And it should be one where you can browse through the albums so you can get all giddy when you see the Dirty Dancing soundtrack and not one of those with about a billion songs on as you kind of need to know then what you�re looking for which is no fun. 5. Have the following bar snacks: Cheese Moments, Scampi Fries and those little packet ploughman�s with two crackers, a bit of cheese and a pickle. And for those who like their pub snacks hairy: pork scratchings. Anything else is superfluous. 6. Sell food. I�m having a bit of a conflict with myself about this one because if they sell food you know it�s going to be the same ponced up microwave meals they sell in every other pub. I sort of miss the time when if you wanted a sandwich it was a cling-film wrapped cheese and salad breadcake* from behind the bar not a spunk-drizzled delicately toasted ciabatta. * bread roll to you non-Yorkshire folk 7. n�t sell Budweiser. Even straight out the fridge it tastes like warmed through yak piss. They should try to mix the beers up a bit though so it�s not just Carling, Stella, etc. There are about 9 trillion little breweries producing beer and I for one would like to try them all please. 8. Have a beer garden. And not out the back or enclosed. One where you can see the world passing by. There�s no better thing than sitting outside a pub on a hot summer afternoon with a pint. No, seriously there isn�t. 9. Ban annoying kids. Up to say 25 years old. Are they allowed in after a certain time anyway? I don�t know. If they sat there like the rest of us supping a pint of Smooth then it�d be okay but if they bomb about the place you should be allowed to stub cigarettes out on their tongue and beat them to the ground. 10. Erm damn. I think I might have overstretched myself with ten. Err, no karaoke. Ever. Or bingo. You may, if you feel so compelled, have a quiz on a Sunday. So there we go a by no means conclusive, exhaustive or even accurate list. And actually a lot of pubs do most of these anyway so also pointless. But it passed an hour or so thinking about pubs at work waiting for home time so yay! 4:36 p.m. - 2007-11-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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