Sauntered weavingly up to Churchills yesterday afternoon for a couple of pints which was cut short by the announcement that the Sharpees were due to play in The Horse and Groom (The Doom and Gloom to those that know the place).
All the encouragement that I needed to pop my groupie hat on and whizz down there at warp 9.7, the thought that I was on my way to a Shepherd Neame pub not entering my head for a moment but my first pint of (somewhat inaccurately named) Master Brew corrected that error almost immediately.
No matter cuz those guys are smokin' with a capital 'kin!
I think I would've been happy drinking horse piss and who knows, perhaps, in essence, I was.
Still, not having been to the Doom and Gloom for some time, I was quite pleasently surprised at how tidy the place is these days.
Some guy at the end of the bar kept staring at me in a bit of an odd way and I couldn't make out whether he wanted a fight or a shag, maybe both? Must've been one of the old regulars, I'd suppose.
Toyed with the idea of a quickie in Bernie Bubbles Whine Bar across the road, The Isle of Thanet Gazzettes' favourite Ramsgate venue, but thankfully it was shut. Phew! After a few hours of almost sublime blues, I'm not sure I was really in the mood for his badly crafted false laugh and almost ceasless torrent of bullshit!
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?
7 years ago
2 comments:
Ah, the old Master Spew, or pit bull tugger revving up fluid as it's sometimes known. Or not. Phew, I've had a couple meself tonight. Sorry.
Do I know you from somewhere?
The face looks vaguely familiar.
Anyway, that's the stuff, yes.
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