A pie, a pint and a kind word
An urban legend from a Scottish hack told to me in a dingy newspaper howff through the mists of a lifetime of hauf and haufs.

This aged hack - an alcoholically unreliable witness - swore he had encountered a dingy pub in a less salubrious part of Edinburgh. Outside was a sign saying: "A pie, a pint and a kind word, £1."

Behind the decrepit bar sat an old crone, balefully staring at a dark interior of red lino and formica. "Uh, a pie, pint and a kind word, please," said the hack.

The crone did not look at him but stuck out a wizened hand. After a moment he realised she wanted payment so he dropped a pound note (remember them?) in her hand. Wordlessly, she poured a pint of the least appetising heavy he'd ever seen. She then reached under the bar and produced a grey piece of pastry which she slammed on a plate in front of him.

Feeling aggrieved at her rudeness, the hack asked: "Hey, what about the kind word."

She looked at him.

"Don't eat the pie."
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Fri 10 Feb 2012, 13:21, 2 replies)

I rather like this.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 10 Feb 2012, 13:27, closed)

Call that an urban legend?

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 10 Feb 2012, 14:12, closed)