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Monday, February 06, 2006

Great expectations

What do you expect from your night on the tiles? Are you after finding the love of your life in an ‘our eyes met across a crowded room’ kind of way? Are you after the love of your night ‘plenty of condoms and no sleep `til daybreak’? Are you after a drink with friends and the chance to shake your tail feather in an amusing way in company that knows to laugh with you and not at you? Or are you looking for the chance to buy/sell drugs/‘get proper pished’/have a scrap/do someone in/get arrested?

If you answered all but the latter you’re likely welcome into our fine establishment, we can’t guarantee you’ll find love or that your friends will be laughing with you not at you, but we hope to be the place where you can try. If you’re after the latter things go elsewhere or you’ll find we’re bad value for money and only likely to be able to provide a quick route to the street with a follow up blue light taxi.

This week I’ve found myself saying “I think it’s time you went home now” to a lot of folk and only a few didn’t take my opinion to heart. One proceeded to try and talk me into submission which is sadly all too common a ploy. This is where having been sat in training courses entitled ‘4 days of how to suck eggs’ has prepared me both physically and mentally for the job. Though I’m sure I didn’t think it was doing me any good at the time. I digress.

The exit began with a “Before you kick me out can I just say…” followed by a “No! you’ll only manage to bore me” before a swift delivery to the street and a long walk home in the cold where I’m sure he’ll have told every passing stranger how unjustly treated he’s been. Hopefully getting ignored or slapped for his efforts.

The other case to note was a large but generally cordial fellow who felt the ravages of beer a little too strongly and was putting tremendous effort at falling asleep. He once roused with the now classic line “I think it’s time you went home now” proceeded to sit reclined and debate the issue with such classics as, “I’m fine, just tired” and “I just need a quick sleep” to which the response inevitably was “No sir, you’re leaving now.” To which he vaguely considered being violent. This would have been entertaining given the size and apparent build of the man but beer had reduced him to the strength of a 12year old girl. Any way whilst grabbing firmly hold of the man his friend intervenes with a very pleasant surprise. “Mate, go on home, we’ll want to come back tomorrow and you don’t want to get yourself barred.” And promptly whisked the big pisticated lump off to the front door and true to his word stopped the big one from being barred. All in all a bout of unselfish, considerate behavior from a punter who I’d have put past such thinking by that stage of the evening.
Proving a good friend is a valuable commodity, especially when the power of speech has ascended from you and large evil men in long coats are descending.

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