The Worst Pub

August 21st 2006 It's six- thirty in the evening and time for a pick-me-up glass of red and off to the worst pub for a pint. Please don't get me wrong, the drinkers, on the whole are great. It's just the pub! The tables can be filthy, the staff see the customers as a pain in the arse. I think they are trained to see a customer, never make eye contact and walk away. There is a constant stream of food being bought back to the bar with a complaint. Last night, I was invited by a total stranger to insert my finger into his steak and ale pie...It was frozen. As i was walking around the corner, I saw the chef from the night before giggling and swaying like a fool. Fat and stupid is no way to go through life young lady. Two pints and two halves later at the smoking table. Ian had had a funny pill, and, unusually for him, he made me laugh three times within my first pint. The man I don't really know was talking to two subcontractors who none of us really knew. All we did know was that they were from up north and had been drinking since half one. Panic Attack was in his cups and musing on his own mortality. I couldn't resist telling him that I was off to bury a friend on thursday who died at fifty-four. "Diagnosed and dead within twelve weeks." I said. "Oh fuck!" He said. Four small points to add: 1. I had to walk around the bar to the washing up area to order my second pint. 2. Christmas posters are up. 3. My favorite barman has been fined twelve hundred pounds for driving home to Eastern Europe and back...Maybe he should have told them about the puppy dog under his wifes coat. 4. Much too much talk about ky jelly!