summerisle
The rain, it raineth every day
Is there anything more depressing ? Let's go through the likely scenarios.
Option 1 : pick a place which plays music so loud it would put to shame the opening hour of the Battle of the Somme.
Option 2 : arrogant 18yr old barmen who have only eyes for some prepubescent, high pitched, bottle blonde, blotchy thighed, giggling, vacuous female.
Option 3 : Have a wide variety of cocktails (with particularly unsubtle names which suggest congress, but not in the marriage bed) consisting a wide variety of primary colours.
Option 4 : Scan the bar with, more hope than expectation, and, at last find something you can drink, Guinness.
Option 5 : go to a bar and drink Guinness that makes a myth of global and pay £4.50 for the privilege.
Option 6 : Ask the 'barman' what whiskies they have, Bells.
Option 7 : grin and bear it and get as drunk as quickly as possible.
Option 8 : make arguments more forcibly next time, and, for seeing Christmas dos coming up, tell people I've only got one week to live so can't make it.
There were compensations. Mainly getting drunk and, missing the match and to come, the Ashes.
Whoever thought of drinking with a group of people with whom you have absolutely nothing in common, in a place were you would normally avoid like the plague I would like to send a strongly worded letter setting the above objections.
Happy Christmas.
.
.
Option 1 : pick a place which plays music so loud it would put to shame the opening hour of the Battle of the Somme.
Option 2 : arrogant 18yr old barmen who have only eyes for some prepubescent, high pitched, bottle blonde, blotchy thighed, giggling, vacuous female.
Option 3 : Have a wide variety of cocktails (with particularly unsubtle names which suggest congress, but not in the marriage bed) consisting a wide variety of primary colours.
Option 4 : Scan the bar with, more hope than expectation, and, at last find something you can drink, Guinness.
Option 5 : go to a bar and drink Guinness that makes a myth of global and pay £4.50 for the privilege.
Option 6 : Ask the 'barman' what whiskies they have, Bells.
Option 7 : grin and bear it and get as drunk as quickly as possible.
Option 8 : make arguments more forcibly next time, and, for seeing Christmas dos coming up, tell people I've only got one week to live so can't make it.
There were compensations. Mainly getting drunk and, missing the match and to come, the Ashes.
Whoever thought of drinking with a group of people with whom you have absolutely nothing in common, in a place were you would normally avoid like the plague I would like to send a strongly worded letter setting the above objections.
Happy Christmas.
.
.
