Rene Descartes
walks into a pub. "Double whisky please", he asks.

"Do you want ice with that?" asks the barman.

"I think not", says Descartes, and disappears.
(Axeman Jim, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 18:50, Reply)

Not my local but still...
Whilst enjoying a relaxing and cultural two week respite in Magaluf with a collection of like minded drunken comrades i found myself in a rather busy pub toilet with watering eyes such was my need to piss. As any decent yob in such a situation would undertake, I flopped the old man out into the handbasin and commenced my slash. Not untill the shivers of releif had subsided did i notice that my resting position on the side of the sink unit had previously been used to position some disgarded chewing gum and i had a moment of tacky panic when reholstering the weapon before i understood the mild humor of the situation.

Disgusting behaviour I know, chewing gum belongs in the bin.
(Hugh Boone mooooove over!, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 18:00, 1 reply)

A a mate of mine was traveling through the prairies of the USA
he stopped at a small town and went to a bar. He was stood at the end of the bar and lit up a cigar.
As he sipped his drink, he stood there quietly blowing smoke rings.
After he blew nine or ten smoke rings into the air, an angry American Indian approached him and said, "Now listen buddy, if you don't stop calling me that I'll kick your fucking head in!"
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 17:49, Reply)

Just remembered...
Sat in one of my favourite old-fart pubs last weekend watching England stuff Italy after work. It was pretty packed out with with people having a swift jar before going down to the Walkers Stadium for the Leicester City match, most of which have kids in tow, obviously bored and anxious to watch the footy.

Two little buggers aged about 8 start flicking barmats at my leg, my attempts to tell them to pack it in failed miserably (presumably because I couldn't stop chuckling as I attempt to dish out a bollocking).

Eventually I ask "Why are you doing that?"

"Because you're an Oldham fan." is the response I get.

Now I'm not sure how they had reached this conclusion, I was still in my work uniform so didn't appear the have an alleigence either way, but you can't fault their loyalty.
(Dok Zombie Cash, gash, pie and mash., Thu 12 Feb 2009, 17:35, Reply)

Old Man Logic
I recall overhearing an old fella pass on his wisdom to the next generation.

He said:

"A woman's like a pub, son. They take your money, they make it so your can't think straight, sometime they can be the cause of arguments between you and your mates, but you want to spend all your time inside one of um..."

Weird... Personally I don't like the thought of fifty pissed up fuckers being inside my Mrs...
( SpankyHanky, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 17:28, 1 reply)

I think that one's
giving you the eye.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 17:16, 2 replies)

Fancy any after hours?
I know there's work in the morning but it'll be alright..
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 17:01, Reply)

Wedding reception,
Haberman: "I'll have a Black Russian"

Bar: "Eh? What's that?"

H: "Oh, it's half vodka, half Kahlua"

B: /half fills a 250ml glass with vodka, tops up with Kahlua

H: "Thanks"

H: /wanders off, needing no more alcoholic beverages for the immediate future


EDIT: reading back a page or few ... thankfully I didn't ask for a white russian instead!
(haberman is singing in the changes, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 16:49, 10 replies)

So I was in this pub with my brother,
in Eastbourne I think, playing pool.

Now I'm unbelievably bad at pool, and my brother is (or was) only very slightly better. So he defeats me comprehensively ... possibly only because I accidently sunk the black too early or something. We play again, mainly just to pass the time.

Only now there's a third customer in the pub, and he takes a keen interest.

So then he wanted to play the winner (ie. not me), and took about 90 seconds to clean up the table. And so stood there, cue in hand, proud and victorious.

But neither me nor my brother wanted to waste our money playing him, and his self-serving winner's priority rule, even though another game might have been nice. What? Pay a couple of quid to get mercilessly thrashed in short order? Not bloody likely.

So (Hooray!) he was king of the table. But I'm not sure anyone would have been impressed. Well, after we left there was exactly no-one to impress... the barman was in a different room.

In my head he stands there still, proud and victorious, awaiting all challengers ... in an empty pub.

And I'm still rubbish at cue/table based games.
(haberman is singing in the changes, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 16:31, Reply)

Last...

orders PLEASE!

Come on you lot...Ain't you got homes to go to?
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 12 Feb 2009, 16:26, 5 replies)

Shakespeare
went to go into a pub.

The bouncer wouldn't let him in.

He was bard.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 16:20, 5 replies)

A late entry
after being reminded of this story by some of the others here.

I was in a hotel in New Jersey and having just arrived I did what any sensible person does after a 7 hour flight, headed straight for the bar.

So I take a seat at the bar and ask for a double vodka and Coke, no ice. I got the drink but with ice. Oh well I thought and knocked it back anyway.

Ordering my second I emphasised the no ice request and the barmaid apologised for the first one explaining it was her first night and pours out the vodka to the same eight in the glass as it would have been had it had ice before turning to the other member of staff asking her if that was right. She corrected her but told her to serve it anyway as it had already been poured so having had this I've now had the equivalent of about 4 doubles and it was only 7PM!

I stayed there for most of the night getting merrily sloshed and eventually asked for my bill about midnight, I'm not quite sure how it had happened but somehow my bill ended up as $9, maybe the new barmaid was as slow at learning the till as she was with the ice.

Having had about $50 worth of drinks I left $40 and had excellent service for the rest of my time there after leaving that tip!

I could probably have told the Cinco de Mayo story from the same trip for this but I think I'll save that for a more fitting QOTW.
(bill, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 16:18, Reply)

But before i go..
..on the subject of pissing. I was regaled by a story of a gaggle of nurses who were going to the T in the Park festival. And with a great deal of foresight and medical know how, they fitted catheters to each other so they wouldn't have to brave the filthy bogs and queues.

Not sure if i was impressed or horrified.



Maybe a bit of both.



Right, im off now.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 16:05, 6 replies)

Right...
cheeeers, im off for a kebab and a wank!
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 16:00, 9 replies)

Last Orders....
I was out drinking with a friend of mine in america. We decided to go to a bar in town that was supposed to be a yorkshire/irish pub. We just ordered our second round when the bell rang. Strange thought we, we had been in bars over here before and never heard the bell before, so we presumed that the owner had bought the tradition from blighty. So we did what any Englishman would do upon hearing the bell, We ordered another round. 5 minutes later we heard the bell again. That was quick we thought. Then another 5 minutes and another bell. Both of us are completely confused. Turns out they ring bell for a tip. After that the barman made a comment every time he rang the bell telling us not to worry.

On a plus the barmaid forgot to charge me for the last round of drinks, so that was a bonus.

On the subject of free beer I'll throw this one in as a bonus.

One night after work a few of us went for drinks in a cocktail bar. this bar did table service. It was my round so I called up the bar tender. We put our order in and the guy came back with our drinks. At this point I felt a bit peckish so I asked for some nuts. The barman went off and once again returned with my requested items. Since the goods had been delivered I decided to enquiry the cost of the goods as well as the service. I was promptly told that is was complimentary. Result! We presume the nuts were the complimentary part and he just forgot about the round of drinks. Saved me 20 quid so I wasn't going to complain, after all I did try to pay for it.
( bobzarkoff, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:53, 2 replies)

Look....
....if serve you I've got to serve everyone else.

Go and wait outside for your QOTW, it said it'd be here in 10 minutes.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:52, Reply)

I was walking home from a mate's house the other night
I passed a pub which was spilling some people into the street, seemingly for them to take a piss.

As I passed the end of the pub there was an alcove with a bloke stood in it, about a foot away from me taking a piss, holding a pint and smoking a cigarette.

I didn't think much of this, although it disugsted my girlfriend and she said so.

What really tickled me though, as that as we passed the guy said a cheerful and confident "Hi"

Admittedly I was stoned as hell, but I cracked up and had trouble walking for a shortwhile afterwards.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:49, Reply)

Before I get back to doing the essay...
A man walks into a bar with a salmon under his arm, he asks the barman if they do food.

"Yes mate" he replies.

"I'll have a fishcake then please."

"Sorry pal, we don't do fishcakes."

"That's a shame" Says the fella, "It's his birthday."

And that, Ladies and Gentleman, is my favourite joke ever.

/coat.
(Dok Zombie Cash, gash, pie and mash., Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:47, 3 replies)

I once saw
A guy pissing in a bin to avoid queuing for the urinals.
(Dok Zombie Cash, gash, pie and mash., Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:38, Reply)

Browser reminds me…

A year or two ago, a mate (who happens to be a hard-core Manchester United fan) informed me that he had a spare ticket to see his beloved team at Old Trafford, and would I like to pop along to see them for free.

WelI, the price was right, so I thought: ‘What the hell’.

The trip up the M6 was no bother, but on arrival we had to partake in his ‘Man U ritual’ which consisted of:

1. Eating a bag of chips down some street that was covered in chip shops bearing huge badly-drawn pictures of Man Utd players (Is it called ‘Sir Matt Busby Way’?)

2. Going to a pub called ‘The Trafford’ and getting blitheringly rat-arsed around likeminded Man U fans before ambling down to the stadium.

This was all good fun, and the fans of both teams that I met were good natured in their abuse of each other.

(In fact, from my perspective it was a little light relief, because, as a Coventry City supporter, it was nice to be on the side of a team that actually stood a chance of winning for a change, even if I was only pretending. It was an albeit brief glimpse of life on the other side of the fence…supporting a team that were actually quite good, and not arse-chewingly shite. *sigh*)

Anyhoo, we went up to the bar in The Trafford, and were greeted by a friendly, but Burly barman “What are you havin’ like, lads?” He asked.

“Pint o’f Boddies* our kid!”, says my mate, strangely and suddenly adopting a Manc accent (despite the fact he was born and bred in Nuneaton).

The barman then rolls his eyes, grabs a pre-poured pint from the hundreds underneath the bar then looks at me: “Ow’s about you then, pal?” He asks.

“Ah, good sir, I’d like some cider please”.

The place falls silent…

Eventually, the barman speaks: “Ay, yer big poooofter, you want that in a laydeeees glass, like?” he japes, as the onlookers return to their EEC Boddingtons mountain, with supporters of both sides briefly united in their mutual heckling of the ‘Cider drinking southern pansie’

Later on we got to the match and at half time we were queuing at one of the bars at the stadium.

It was like a production line.

Customer 1: “Hey, like, our kid, Ah’ll have a pint o’ Boddies un’ a meat’n’potato pie”
Customer 2: “Hey, like, our kid, Ah’ll have a pint o’ Boddies un’ a meat’n’potato pie”
Customer 3: “Hey, like, our kid, Ah’ll have a pint o’ Boddies un’ a meat’n’potato pie”

You get the idea. Then it was my turn.

Me: “Greetings my good man. Could I please see a menu?...and do you have any dry white wine?”

From the look of shock and horror etched of the faces of every individual, you’d think that I had detonated a dirty bomb.

My mate then attempted to climb up his own ringpiece in an elaborate attempt to avoid being associated with me, as the stunned attendant rubbed her eyes then reached into a cardboard box under the counter, pulled out a miniature plastic bottle of ‘wine’, wiped the inch thick layer of dust from it, unscrewed the top and handed it over to me.

And you know what? It wasn’t half bad :). I just don’t think I’m cut out for Northern life.

*Boddingtons. It's a beer of some sort. I understand it is quite popular t’up North ‘n’that.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:38, 4 replies)

If....
....I go out, can I come back in again? I just need to find my mate....
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:28, 2 replies)

My first visit to my local....
A busy(ish) Saturday evening, about 5pm. I was in with my brother in law.

A couple of pints ordered, and we take in our surroundings. The usual pub atmosphere of a Saturday, with one eye on the guy you're chatting with and another on the telly checking out the footie scores.

A small, weedy looking chap came up to me - dressed in camo gear and carrying a pint in one hand and a sack in another.

"Alright pal", he said, "ehh....can I ask, what's your business?"

Me: "How do you mean mate?"

Him: "Ehm...well..yer no polis are you?"

Me: "No pal."

Him: "Ah right, good stuff mate." *opens the sack* "Do youse want a rabbit?".

I kid you not - he had a sack of rabbits, freshly shot that morning.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:27, 2 replies)

DING DING
Drrrrrrrrrrinking up time please!



/the soundclip I fear the most on Friday nights in my local kareoke bar which I am now barred from for trying to bribe the semi-disabled bookkeeper to let me sing the last song.
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:25, Reply)

Tall bloke
On a stag do in brighton, we had tickets for a huge 'superclub' type shithole. It seemed to be entirely populated by stag and hen groups. It was without doubt, the worst, and possibly greatest place I've ever seen.

Anyway, as this was our starting venue, and we were due for more gentlemanly pleasures later, and we need to meet up later, being the organised, as we went in I suggested that we all meet somewhere in 2 hours time as we'd all get separated.

I spotted a random tall guy, easily 6'7, and suggested that we all meet at the Tall Bloke, at midnight precisely.

Just before midnight I headed for the main entrance. As I walked up the stairs, who did I spot - but the tall bloke. Rather brilliantly, he appeared to be leaving, but was waiting for his mate. He stood near the door looking back in to the building. I stood next to him, slightly awkwardly, but I just smiled. About 5 minutes later, my friends came around, spotted me next to the long lad, and we formed a queue. The guy never twigged but when the stag finally emerged from the smoke, and saw us all patiently waiting next to him, he pissed himself laughing.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:23, Reply)

It is now officially
a lock in.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:23, 9 replies)

“You’ve been here before.”
“You’ve been here before.”

“Huh, what?” I said.

“I said you’ve been here before” said the barman who looked a bit slovenly and wore round wire glasses.

“I have never been to this place before in my life. I don’t even live in this town.”

“I have seen your face before. Is your name Phil?”

“No, it’s not Phil, it’s…well never mind what my name is. Can I have a pint of Kirin please?”

“Ok, Phil. Nice to see you again.”

“But!..” I spluttered as I looked around to see if anyone else was witnessing this cheeky insanity. The barkeep slowly moved backwards and diagonally from the bar and into an empty dimly lit room.

Another chap smartly hove into view from around the other corner.

“What’ll it be, pal?” said the ‘new’ bar keep.

“Er, I already ordered a Kirin with the other barman.”

“Eh, what other barman? I am the only one working this shift before it gets busy later.”

“Oh come one mate, don’t mess me around. The other barman, with the Lennon specs.”

“Oooh. Yeah, he doesn’t work here, he just unofficially collects the glasses. The manager feels a bit sorry for him, with his brother who was a regular dying n’all."

“Ok, this is freaking me out a bit here. Can I have a pint please?”

“Yup, one pint coming up.” The barman started to pour my pint. “Sad business and all. Derek sometimes pretends he works here. We don’t stop him. Well sometimes we do when he gets a bit excited. I think his big brother Phil indulged him a lot. There we go mate, that’s £4.50”.

That happened last week.

I don’t think I will be going back.


not at them prices.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:14, 8 replies)

Gypsy Weddings
OK, another one.

Same place as this, the Jingling Gate. The place was renouned for the amount of Gypsy Weddings it catered for over the years. Infact, in the 2 years I worked there, we must of had 5 of them.

When I say Gypsy wedding, I actually mean the full proceedings, not just the reception.

Nothing would fill my heart with glee than seeing a slightly retarded lad marrying his lovely sister who was actually also his mother and auntie.

These events were somewhat a sight to behold. They would pack the full place out with 300-400 of their travelling clan, and carry more money on them then I've ever seen in my life... most of them with rolls amounting up to 1 or 2k.

Gypsies, as reputation preceeds them, are massive, massive drinkers. Most of which at these weddings would drink between 4 and 6 pints of cheap lager/cider in the space of an hour, and they would keep up this speed until the early hours of the morning.

Also, as you'd imagine, a lot of them would try and nick stuff from the place at any possible juncture. Like the time I saw one of them trying to make off with 4 of our chairs out the front door. He couldn't of made it any blatantly obvious, doing it right in front of the receptionists nose. Genius!

Mind you, amongst the swarm of incest and mutation, their were some absolute stunners dotting about, most of them more than up for a good ragging. But any thoughts of that were normally diminished within seconds of realising that their brothers/fathers/uncles were there (who looked like clones of each other), brandishing knives, and talking about their last victims.... usually the last person to shag their daughter/sister/auntie/mother.


Ah, but it was mostly good times, full of charm (and incest) those Gypsies. :-)


Length? About 5-6 generations of incest!
(ShaunyBoi has been surviving fires since, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 15:10, Reply)