Upon returning from the loo in one of Ramsgate's 'classier' pubs last night, I found one of our local arguments for euthanasia rifling through my handbag.
"What the f*ck are you doing?" I gently probed, as if it wasn't painfully obvious.
"I was looking for a lighter." Came the rather lame response.
"Couldn't you just ask someone at one of these tables?" I enquired.
"None of them like me." I was hastily informed.
Well I'm not bloody surprised!
I should have called the police, really, but from previous experience I've found that they like to do exactly the same thing as him, albeit for a different reason, so I plumped for pushing him over backwards and requesting that he leave the premises immediately.
Judging by the reaction from the rest of the pub, I feel it safe to assume that at least half of what he told me was the truth.
Coming Back With Front.
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Good grief, this thing is still here? Doesn't Blogger ever put it's rubbish
out for the binmen?
6 years ago
3 comments:
Lucky he didn't find that pirrhana you keep in there.
Not far off.
'twas Hamiltons Tavern and I was just in there whilst waiting for some beansprouts and noodles to be microwaved, a couple of doors down.
I find myself quite enamoured by the landlord, Tom, who cuts quite a dash in a rugged, intellectual way.
He's married too, which makes him that much more exciting.
The piranha isn't in my handbag!
Enjoyed a lot! »
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