Is this standard practice now?

We have a couple of old gimmers who are regulars in the pub. They sit
beside the fire, muttering into their beards and halves of proper
bitter, occasionally shouting at yoofs who don't close doors or pull
their trousers up. As Autumn comes in, they produce chestnuts from
seasonal pockets, build the fire up and then rake it back - and roast
chestnuts over the embers. They started with a steel plate, then a
shovel, now a modified grill pan on a rebar frame.

Whoever is behind the bar has to wobble off to the kitchen and collect
plates for chestnuts, salt cellars and pots for debris: then everybody
has chestnuts to nibble, spit and juggle as they turn out to be
unexpectedly quite bloody hot.

Within a couple of days, gifts of little bags of chestnuts appear from
all sorts of people and the pub becomes redolent with the smell of
smoking shells and burning beards. It is always great fun, but sadly
the chestnut season is rather short and it is always a bit of an
anti-climax when there's no more to be had.

Last Autumn the season was extended by donations of piles of bread and
dripping and unexpectedly a bag of crumpets. Pokers were pressed into
service as toasting forks and the old gimmers got crumbs in their
beards and the kitchen ran out of butter.

The next day, a pair of enormous toasting forks appeared, made from
full-length, twisted welding rods. More crumpets appeared and a
donation of butter materialised - and everybody got smoking crumpets,
fresh from the fire.

The day after that, they were all sitting around mumbling again, when
somebody who'd been shopping turned in with a sadly crushed and
deformed loaf of brown wholemeal. The toasting forks were swiftly
wielded as stabbing instruments and all sorts of strangely-shaped,
gently burned slices of bread appeared, stacked on a side table. The
kitchen ran out of butter, margarine and little pots of jam - and the
sole Marmite lover was turned out into the cold smoking shed in disgust
at his aberrant behaviour.

For weeks after that, anybody who dented, squished or deformed a loaf
donated it to the bar. People were bringing in half-used loaves on the
basis of being a day beyond their dates - ideal ammo for the flashing
toasting forks. Regulars took to turning up with spreadables about
their persons, and the little white dog in the corner feasted every day
on the drifts of falling crumbs.

Nothing's ever wasted in a proper pub and bread soaks up an extra pint
a treat.

 

I *have* to move somewhere less pikey.

--
Catman MIB#14 SKoGA#6 TEAR#4 BOTAFOF#38 Apostle#21 COSOC#3
Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright (Remove rust to reply)
116 Giulietta 3.0l Sprint 1.7 GTV TS GT 3.2 V6
Triumph Sprint ST 1050: It's blue, see.
www.cuore-sportivo.co.uk

 

Are under 25's the ones who go around killing people with plastic forks? PC
gone mad?

 

One droid tried bringing up football in the "conversation" with me. I just
said "Don't"

Can't stand the fucking game.

 

Fucking good move.

 

"des in all probability sticking around for another two months"

Well you won't get to shag her, so you might as well fill your boots.

 

But the question remains, why must you look 25 now? Looking 21 was
sufficient before.

I'd ask her for ID and then ask her if she's up for a quickie in the
stockroom if she's old enough.

Sorry, but no.

I know, but it's still fucked.

 

I've never been asked. Ohh, I just remembered, I've never tried to buy booze

 

I haven't for ages, and that's depressing.

That's far more depressing.
--
Catman MIB#14 SKoGA#6 TEAR#4 BOTAFOF#38 Apostle#21 COSOC#3
Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright (Remove rust to reply)
116 Giulietta 3.0l Sprint 1.7 GTV TS GT 3.2 V6
Triumph Sprint ST 1050: It's blue, see.
www.cuore-sportivo.co.uk

 

Morrisons is NEVER a good move

 

"des in all probability sticking around for another two months"

If she's young enough to pee, she's young enough for thee.

 

We have two near us and they're both quite reasonable. The Sainsbury's is
fucking dire though.

 

I was called a "lad" today in the dentists. As in "The lad for his 12
o'clock is here, but he's a bit late" (It was 3:30 and last night I was
playing a gig in Chorley and the pub owner said I looked 10 years younger
than last time I played there (about 6 or 7 weeks ago). I've had my hair
lopped in he interim.

I think I'll keep it short for a while.

 

But very cheap

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, Beav

Yes, yes, I think we all know by now that you don't drink, Beav. Well
done you. Very clever.

 

I'm glad I don't need to justify myself as cheap....

--
Catman MIB#14 SKoGA#6 TEAR#4 BOTAFOF#38 Apostle#21 COSOC#3
Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright (Remove rust to reply)
116 Giulietta 3.0l Sprint 1.7 GTV TS GT 3.2 V6
Triumph Sprint ST 1050: It's blue, see.
www.cuore-sportivo.co.uk

 

It's your round.

 

"Who are you calling round, you fat git?"

A phrase I first noticed in the (now sort of famous) author Colin
Bateman's column in the Bangor Spectator about 25 years ago.

My memory's blown a gasket.

 

But that's three sentences.[1]


[1] Allowing that "Beav." is a sentence.[2]
[2] Maybe a life sentence. )

 

"Need" doesn't have to come into it.