alright

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 13:52, Reply)

Lard arsed

( GeordieJay Bummers are deaf, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 13:49, Reply)

Larsed

( broadsword w⚓, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 13:33, Reply)

Let the people who post here have some input...
www.b3ta.com/board/11056897
( Muns, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 12:48, 3 replies)

http://b3ta.com/questions/dodgyboozers/post2208785
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 12:42, Reply)

TIME GENTLEMEN PLEASE

( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 12:40, 1 reply)

i've never been to a pub

( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 11:55, 3 replies)

COCK

(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 11:51, Reply)

LAST ORDERS!

( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 11:44, Reply)

NEVER!!!

(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 11:31, Reply)

ALWAYS.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 11:28, Reply)

FIRST!

(Set your faces to Stunned Bigly, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 11:00, Reply)

LAST.

( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 10:55, 1 reply)

years ago when I was a fresh faced backpacker wearing drip dry clothes in primary colour with extra buttons so you could turn them into short sleeves and shorts, with pockets on the sleeves just in case the eight others weren't enough
where was I? Ah yes, I'd caught a bus to a village south of Leeds to visit a mate of my dads. It might have been called liversage, but the pub in the small village on top of a hill was definetly called The Fountain. Anyway, you know that scene from American werewolf in london where he goes into the pub on the moors and all these wierd villages stare at him? Well it was like that. If there was a piano player he would stopped mid-bar. It was like I'd stepped out of a fucking spaceship. Obviously they didn't get too many strangers drinking there. My dad's friend wasn't there so I had naught to do but sip my bitter for what seemed like an awkward age while they continued to stare at me like I might change shape at any moment.
funny thing was, when my dad's mate finally arrived and the locals learned that I knew him, they couldn't have been more friendly and welcoming, cracking jokes about australians and the rugby. And christ they could knock back the pints that lot. I ended up chundering at the snooker club later that night, but that's another story. "bitter and bile on the baize" with a foreword by Jimmy White, Penguin 1997
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 10:06, 1 reply)

Three pubs down Lewes Road in Brighton
used to be renowned drug dens, specialising in MDMA in tablet form.
They were well rough, so I never went down that road.
I always managed to dodge E boozers.
(SigourneysBeaver took off and nuked the entire site from orbit on, Thu 13 Feb 2014, 9:45, 2 replies)