» Food sabotage

Booze (or not)
Working in a pub you meet lots of nice people, unfortunately you also have to suffer more than your fair share of cockends.

Now, I have a large number of footy style knobbers who drink in my establishment and one week a particularly loud, mono-brain celled chap fucked me off and I vowed to get him back. The next week he struts in, not bothering to appologise for last weeks penistry and orders a bottle of Becks, and so it starts. I take an ice cold bottle out of the fridge, open it and plonk it in front of him.

Now he proceeds to drink another 8 odd bottles, getting louder and more obnoxious with each one.

Once again he's getting on my nerves. His loud and grating voice letting everyone in the postcode know his small and worthless opinion on every subject. So, I go over to tell him to wind his neck in and stop being so obnoxious.

"Well, you shouldn't have served me so much beer," he tells me. To which, with a big shit eating grin, I can only reply by picking up one of his empty bottles off the table and pointing at it. "It's no alcohol Becks, you idiot. That's all I've been serving you today".

His mates start pissing themselves and taking the piss out of their "friend", who it transpires has managed to get "drunk" of 9 bottles of 0.05% lager. To make matters even better, he ran out of money, couldn't afford to buy another drink, his mates wouldn't buy him one and he got the appropriate response from me when he asked for a tab.

Yes, sometimes I like the power I have in my job.
(Mon 22nd Sep 2008, 12:41, More)

» Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.

Not quite thrown away, more just dropped
I was only about 4 or five and my Nan had come over to visit.
She was my favouritist relative, nice, kind always had time for me (thinking about it, would have been more fitting to mourn her loss here, but what am I gonna do). Anyway, the new fangled one pound coin had just been issued and my Nan thought the first thing she would do after getting out of the car was to treat each of her three Grandsons to a brand new, never seen before by my specky four eyes, real life ONE POUND COIN. It was soooooo shiny. It was worth a fucking whole pound. In a coin. That was like magic to a small child.
So, there I was holding this thing of wonder up to the light when, being the cack handed fuck I am, I drop it. It rolls under the car. My face is a picture of shock, it's as if Santa Claus has just raped and killed the Easter Bunny in front of me. I fall to the floor to see this golden nugget of joy rolling away.
Now, bearing in mind my Nan has just been in the Austin Maestro from hell for the last four and a half hours, I demand she moves the car so I can retrieve my pound, and she, the utterly lovely lady, obliges the small, teary eyed nugget dropper. But I can't find the fucking thing. I'm on my hands and knees searching wildly, little face collapsing with every passing second. So shitty must I have looked my Nan says she'll get me another pound coin, but my bitch whore of a mother says "No! Little Monkeyboy must learn to look after his property, he shall have no more money!"
I'm in tears, snot streaming down my little face when my brother, sweet as you like, says he's found my coin. I rush over to him and see my pound, wedged deep down a gap in the concrete drive way. I grab a stick and try to prize this thing out. No, it's not coming. No matter what I do, no matter what is used, this thing ain't budging, and I'm left outside, all on my own, staring at this thing. Two-fucking-hundred halfpenny sweets. Right there. Centimeters away.
That bastard coin stayed there, haunting me for most of the 18 years I lived in that house, until, after drunkenly recounting this story to a friend the red mist descended. I found my dads sledge hammer, and I got that fucking pound back. Unfortunately I had to pay a lot more than that to my parents when they found a fuck off big hole in the middle of their drive.




But I got my pound back.
(Fri 15th Aug 2008, 17:16, More)

» Guilty Pleasures, part 2

trolley riding
surely I can't be the only old man who likes to push the supermarket trolleys 'round the aisles, then, when the required speed is reached hang on, with no feet on the ground, and just glide.
Weeeeeee!
(Thu 13th Mar 2008, 16:39, More)

» The nicest thing someone's ever done for me

I love Mr Oliver
One evening in my lovely little boozer I caught two fellows in the cubicle together and proceeded to try and through them out.

To cut a long story short, I ended up with my wrist shattered and a face like in my profile pic.

Now, when I get out of hospital I'm greeted by all manner of well wishers and cards from these people but there was one that caught my eye.

Oliver, for that is his name, is the most polite octogenarian you'll ever meet, and is always a beautiful person whenever he totters in the pub. When I get to his letter it leaves me in tears. He wrote that he was appalled to hear that I had been put in hospital and how he hoped I got better and, bearing in mind this man is not a well off pensioner, he had slipped a tenner in with a note that I was to buy myself something to cheer myself up.

I don't care that there is no humous here, I just thought that the rest of the world should know that Oliver is so amazingly kind it made me cry like a girl.
(Thu 2nd Oct 2008, 18:08, More)

» Neighbours

I live in my own pub
Therefore, according to the neighbours, this makes me THE neighbour from hell.

When the new licensing laws were coming into effect they objected to the rather modest hours extension that I applied for.

The complaints against us ranged from the fact that they regularly had to put up with noise until 2 in the morning (2 hours after I had closed up and gone to bed) there would be more cans littering the streets (I don't sell cans of beer)and the best, that there had been a murder opposite the pub (the magistrate who has lived there for 40 years had somehow missed this).

All I wanted to do was shout at them "Did you not see the four story, bright yellow fucking building when you moved to town?!", but instead I was very polite, kept my shit eating grin on and got every complaint thrown out and my license granted.

I celebrated with a fuck of big, noisy party, using my full extended hours. But I was kind enough to send them all an invite.
(Sat 3rd Oct 2009, 11:14, More)