The result was that I did not get in sight of Pither Towers until just after 8pm and so stopped off at the pub at the end of my road (not my "local", believe it or not) for something to steady my nerves.
On walking in I was greeted by the following.............
Has the world gone completely mad? Wine tasting! In a fucking pub!!! At first glance I thought a conjuror had set up stall in the corner and was going to perform that lifting-the-bottle-to-reveal-yet-more-bottles-underneath trick, but no. It WAS actually a fucking wine tasting!!!
The idea, apparently, was for people to decide which of the three disguised wines they preferred so it could be shipped in by the tankerful. Fucking marketing wankers!! Don't you just loathe them?
The people who actually bothered to go up and have a taste were all people who were drunk to start with (no, not me) and who were desperately trying to dip out of their rounds. I overheard one twat say: "I don't know about the others, but I know my Montaigne Sauvignons!" This, from a pillock who had three pints of Grolsch still on his table and had a stain which demonstrated all-too openly that he had pissed himself! The only other people I saw have a go at the taste test were two old broilers who were half-cut and just wanted more vino as their dole cheques had run out.
Sorry. Marketing? Fuck off! - to Grantham.
* For those of you who are interested, the answers to the blind taste test pictured above were:
A. A Sauvignon blanc.
B. A Merlot.
C. A French farmer's pile dipped in a bucket of battery acid.
4.2
2.7
8
1.6
0
5.9
Shaggy Blog Stories
3 comments:
Not what you need after the commute from hell. If it was a crisps tasting I'd have been tempted, though.
I do not have anything useful to add, not that that has ever been a consideration, but I have noted the lack of comments here, and thought that you might be lonely.
Either that or you are too pissed to moderate.
Or you have deleted them all, which would be my favourite.
Hi Arabella,
What I really needed after that long commute was just a quiet pint.....and a gun!
Vicus,
I have been working like a Japanese prisoner of war and so unable either to moderate, blog or drink my own bodyweight in booze. The weekend is here, however, and I feel an Oliver Reid momemt coming on.
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