Another Pub related one
When I was a young child my Mum used to be a bar lady, in a bit of a rough pub,It was in the black country so guaranteed rough.

My Sister and I spent three summer holidays in their shitty beer garden, which consisted of three broken tables, a bit of brick wall, concrete flooring and the worlds rustiest swing. To even glance at the swing gave you tetanus, and screeched like the gates of hell when used.

My Mum (who I love to death) occasionally through some ready salted crisps and draft coke at us when the manager, who had a strong resemblance to Carl from Aqua Teen Hunger Force, went to scratch his arse and read Viz. This has also given me an aversion to draft coke for the rest of my life, which in my opinion tastes slightly worse than the cats piss which is SodaStream.

Anyway,whilst my mates were all riding their bikes, going swimming and doing generally fun stuff, my sister and I were bored shitless in some forgotten shithole of a pub trying to think of more inventive tortures for each other, usually involving the hideous swing. I remember the one day when we took a ball until Mr Bastard bar owner took it away for disturbing his customers.

Occasionally some of the decrepit nicotine stained, filthy smelling and decrepit customers came and sat outside then we had to be extra quiet and sit on one of the broken benches until they went back inside. I've seen happier people in an Ingmar Bergman film.

Happy Days! :)
(Unicross was brought to you today by the letters M, E and H, Sun 19 Aug 2007, 1:22, Reply)