Monday, March 23, 2009


Yesterday afternoon I went for a walk by the river. It was a pleasant enough day, therefore I managed quite a few miles. Towards the end, tired by my exertions, I began to fancy a beer. Fortunately (or so I thought) a pub came into a view. A very pleasant one, too, judging by the exterior: hanging baskets, oak beams, leaded pane windows, and the rest. This being so I entered in order to assuage my thirst, certain that the interior, and all therein, would be of a commensurate standard.

I had been deceived. First off, the barmaid was an ugly fucking cow, completely out of keeping with the style and elegance of the building. Consequently, it was exactly as if I’d gone into what looked, from the exterior, to be, say, a picturesque 17th century Anglican church only to discover, on the inside, an altar constructed from a pyramid of human skulls manned by an Aztec priest, ready to rip the still-beating-heart from my chest. Not what I was expecting.

In my opinion, the brewery, McMullen’s, shouldn’t be encouraging the equivalent of pagan sacrifices. (Not on a Sunday, anyway.) At least pagans were honest about it. If you went to 15th century Mexico and climbed up one of their stepped pyramids, you knew exactly what you were going to get at the top. They didn’t post a sign outside saying “Free beer” or “Gorgeous dancing girls!!!” No, you could tell by the blood dripping from within, and the screams, exactly what was on offer. So, by the same token, if the exterior of the pub looks good, its barmaids ought to look good, as well. Or if they’re puke-inducingly ugly, then the pub should also look like a dump.

And another thing: When I started drinking my beer, some stupid cunt came up to me and tried to engage me in conversation. Why? I go into pubs to drink, not to talk. If I do want a fucking conversation, then I’ll take someone in with me. That way I can guarantee both the quality and content of that conversation. I do not wish to discuss the weather, football, or road congestion problems on the A10 into Hertford with some arsehole whose IQ is clearly at least 60 points lower than my own, thank you very much.

All in all, then, a not very satisfactory day. It’s just a good job I’m not an American or German high school student, otherwise I’d now want to go into class with an automatic weapon and start “taking out” the staff and pupils.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

An unusually late posting.Trying to get rid of that substantial arse?Firstly,Aztecs,Toltecs,and Privatedetecs dragged the poor buggers up the pyramids.Wasnt a choice.(Though there is some argument as to the role of the King in early pre-Columbian society).Then conversation.Just mutter "Ten years" under your breath and scowl see the pub clear.A black eye is another good way to get some room.But the last point puzzles me.An IQ 60 pts below yours?Poor cunt would be drooling at about minus 5!Finally if cyber stalkers are looking in.Here is a message for the Met police and their pals.FUCK YOU!!