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Best things heard in a pub.

Tony Lockhart

Avoiding Stress, at Every Opportunity
For me, the Shuttle and Loom, Darlington, about 1989.

I was stood at the bar paying for two pints when ‘Darlo Man” (fuzzy tache, slip on shoes with tassels, white shirt and black strides) said to Terry the landlord:

“Excuse me mate, got any Jive Bunny on yer jukebox?”

Terry: “Fook off.”

I was crying.
 
It was more the events leading up to the declaration, “I’ll burn yer ****ing boat!”. The Royal Hotel in Portree 30 years ago. Skye was choc full with American and Japanese tourists trying to get dinner and many were in the hotel bar waiting for a table as we were. A very drunk fisherman still in overalls seated at the bar seemed to be antagonising the bar manager.

After about 20 min, the manager put down the glass he had been polishing, leaned over the bar and drew the man toward him by his collar, punching him several times in the face. The room went silent, the fisherman slumped to the floor unconscious. The manager coolly walked round the other side of the bar, took the man by the ankles and dragged him along the floor, out a side door. His head struck the step on the way out. The manager came back in and started serving customers as though nothing had happened.

10 min later, the side door was flung open and the victim walked in, pointed at the manager and shouted “I’ll burn her ****ing boat!” and marched back out again. After a few moments of complete silence everyone just carried on with their evening.
 
It was more the events leading up to the declaration, “I’ll burn yer ****ing boat!”. The Royal Hotel in Portree 30 years ago. Skye was choc full with American and Japanese tourists trying to get dinner and many were in the hotel bar waiting for a table as we were. A very drunk fisherman still in overalls seated at the bar seemed to be antagonising the bar manager.

After about 20 min, the manager put down the glass he had been polishing, leaned over the bar and drew the man toward him by his collar, punching him several times in the face. The room went silent, the fisherman slumped to the floor unconscious. The manager coolly walked round the other side of the bar, took the man by the ankles and dragged him along the floor, out a side door. His head struck the step on the way out. The manager came back in and started serving customers as though nothing had happened.

10 min later, the side door was flung open and the victim walked in, pointed at the manager and shouted “I’ll burn her ****ing boat!” and marched back out again. After a few moments of complete silence everyone just carried on with their evening.
Same hotel, slightly less than thirty years ago...
We were bevvying in one of the hotel bars when a local couple asked the barman to call a taxi for them which he did.
As they left, the barman shook his heid muttering "f***in' lazy b@st@rds..."
"Why's that?" I enquired.
"They're going around the corner to our public bar and right next to you is the connecting door ffs!"
 
Been there myself, looking for a fancy new club me and a mate got in a cab and told the driver where to go. He said „are you guys serious?“ We said „yeah, sure!“. He said ok, crossed the intersection, stopped, and said „voila, that‘ll be 4 quid please“.
Only sensible thing to do was be grand a give him a tenner. We all laughed….
 
At my local a guy walks in, scans the bar with its 2 hand pulls one for mild, one for bitter, and the 4 shiny taps for 2 lagers and 2 ciders. he asks "Do you do draft Guinness?" The barman looks down at the pumps and says "Dunno. I'll go and ask the manager".
 
Customer; “Can I have four pints of lager, a glass of white wine, an orange juice, two gin and tonics, a packet of peanuts, two packets of cheese and onion crisps and a packet of salt and vinegar, please”

Barman; “There you go, would you like a tray?”

“Dammit! Don’t you think I’ve got enough to carry?”
 
I don't know what was said, but this would have been interesting too.

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Many years ago, before gastropubs were 'a thing', Mrs H and I were sat in a pub in Blackheath, the posh bit of SE London. We'd finished our main course, and the Aussie waitress asked us if we wanted any dessert. Mrs H asked what cheeses they had, and the waitress replied 'We do a very nice bry'. It was several seconds before Mrs H twigged that she meant brie.

In a different pub not far from there, we sat down with another couple one evening. It was in winter, and a fire was blazing away in the fireplace. The bloke said 'You can always tell a real fire like that from one of those fake ones', at which point the barman came over and turned the fire down a bit with the gas tap at the side.
 
In a hotel bar in Rotterdam, we asked what wines they had available. The young, and rather inexperienced girl behind the bar: ‘we have all the types’. The, subsequently disappointingly limited, wine list did however confirm that they had red, white, rose and fizz, so she had a point.
 
My father in law used to make his own rose. Half white, half red. Maybe the pub did the same:)
 


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