The New Regime. Part One

For various reasons I only had twenty minutes in which to down a pint of premium lager and sample the-worst-pub in its new guise.

As I entered I noticed that it was spotlessly clean. All the ashtrays were empty, and just when I thought it was all going too well, I saw that there were no bar staff behind the bar. The-Builder-Who-Wants-To-Be-An-Actor was waving a tenner around with no particular urgency. Panic Attack, My Friend, Liam and Wilson were huddled together at the corner of the bar. I heard My Friend say to Liam, "Just wait 'till he hears how much it is!" I had twenty minutes to get served, drink a pint, go to Tesco-Metro and get home to my pre-menstrual wife. I didn't have time for bar-room banter. I was on a mission.

I ignored The-Bulider-Who-Wants-To-Be-An-Actor and sidestepped him to catch a member of the bar-staff down 'Shirkers Alley.' My heart sang; in front of me were seven members of staff all in new T-shirts and raring to go. I smiled. They all smiled back. I smiled again while counting their number with my nodding head. They smiled back. "They can't serve you, they don't know how to use the till," said a porcine face in a badly fitting sports jacket. I smiled at him. He didn't smile back. This was my first meeting with Captain Pugwash.
I chased the barman who did know how to use the till back to his till when I had been served. "Two pound fucking seventy!" The lads laughed. MyFriend said, "I told you."