Saturday 22 November 2008

The end of an Era?

It would seem that the unthinkable, abandoning the Local for one that could actually be relied on to serve that seemingly scarce commodity known as 'DRINK', was actually about to occur.

After multitudinous rants and laments over the demise of the Local, Spudgirl analysed the current position, both literally and figuratively, issuing the decree:

"It is with great interest that we have noted your comments about the Volts. As you know, I have, for some time, been a little less than satisfied with the Vodka availability. My husband is not usually so discerning* but has also been disappointed with the range and standard of the beer. Although we have no major issue with the landlord at the present time, we agree that the situation has not been the best.

If it is acceptable to the majority, my husband and I would like to join you good folk at a 'New Venue' on our return from across the sea.
Kind regards (in the hope that the above has improved Tattoo's mood slightly after his rant)."

Spudgirl & Tubthumper


Having reached this level of arbitration, whilst some of their number braved the high seas, (not to mention Tweety & Thrush), the remaining Regulars took their first steps into the unknown reporting back forthwith that they had their accomplished this initial foray seemingly unscathed:

"Was welcomed quite warmly by the landlady, who only asked us to watch our language, to which Hamish replied, "what if you have Tourettes?" Nearly spat my beer all over her.

That would have been a good start."

It was, therefore, with much trepidation and anticipation that the remaining Regulars readied themselves pastures new (and, to Billy Idle's immeasurable consternation, an extra 5 minute's walk.)



Meanwhile, down the Local, (sniff) the current incumbents had posted signs requesting guest beer choices for the coming months, to which the Regulars had helpfully added,

'Any beer would be a start.'

and

'Anything other than crap lager'.




*For 'not so discerning read: has been witnessed drinking the dregs of abandoned vessels found in dirty corners of many a pub. A practice he fondly refers to as 'minesweeping'.

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