I’M not narrow-minded and don’t think I’m squeamish, but getting my shoes covered in vomit before I even got through the door should have provided all the warning I needed.
I’d already fought my way through the scaffolding yard masquerading as a car park by the time a huge beast lurched out of The County Oak and threw up over my feet.
By the time the fully track-suited barmaid, with a bandage on her right hand, served me a pint of Kronenbourg I realised this was Shameless meets Celebrity Juice – but without the class of either of these programmes.
The noise and chaos in the main bar was so intense – not to mention the potentially lethal mix of a child chucking darts and an American bulldog that looked like a shire horse – I headed for the deserted middle bar purely on safety grounds.
Sadly it was not a safe zone as one of the neaderthals decided to hurl a red ball into this middle bar and the 26-week-old bulldog, affectionately named RJ, followed it to cause total mayhem.
Continues...
My kind of pub...
My kind of pub...
“If you trust in yourself, and believe in your dreams, and follow your star. . . you'll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy.”