Pubs
Jeccy writes, "I've seen people having four-somes, fights involving spastics and genuine retarded people doing karaoke, all thanks to the invention of the common pub."
What's happened in your local then?
( , Thu 5 Feb 2009, 20:55)
Jeccy writes, "I've seen people having four-somes, fights involving spastics and genuine retarded people doing karaoke, all thanks to the invention of the common pub."
What's happened in your local then?
( , Thu 5 Feb 2009, 20:55)
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J.D. Wetherspoons
Unfortunately the one night-club in this hole of a town is currently shut-down for renovations. I hope this means taking the mushy and sticky sick out of the carpet and changing the fucking record collection.
This sudden loss of night-club means the fair and young of this town migrate on Saturday ngihts to the nearest town with a nightclub. Henceforth Saturday in Wick is ghost-townish.
My friends and I, desperate for not even a decent pub, but a pub with more than nobody in it had to resort to the country-wide scourge known as J.D. Wetherspoon. We marched to the bar and I stated the round, the last drink (being mine) I decided to spice up a little. I squinted behind the bar and asked for "one of those fancy looking whiskys, with a splash of Coke" while pointing.
The barman shook his head and grimaced "that's not whisky", and skooshed not even a dribble of Coke in the glass containing the whisky-like mystery. I looked at him, and looked at my friend at the bar struggling to believe that one bartender could be such a cunt.
So I looked him in the eye, and necked the contents of the glass - this may have shocked dhim. I placed the glass down and stated "asshole" - this did shock him. And I was asked to leave the bar.
Which I did.
( , Mon 9 Feb 2009, 13:38, 7 replies)
Unfortunately the one night-club in this hole of a town is currently shut-down for renovations. I hope this means taking the mushy and sticky sick out of the carpet and changing the fucking record collection.
This sudden loss of night-club means the fair and young of this town migrate on Saturday ngihts to the nearest town with a nightclub. Henceforth Saturday in Wick is ghost-townish.
My friends and I, desperate for not even a decent pub, but a pub with more than nobody in it had to resort to the country-wide scourge known as J.D. Wetherspoon. We marched to the bar and I stated the round, the last drink (being mine) I decided to spice up a little. I squinted behind the bar and asked for "one of those fancy looking whiskys, with a splash of Coke" while pointing.
The barman shook his head and grimaced "that's not whisky", and skooshed not even a dribble of Coke in the glass containing the whisky-like mystery. I looked at him, and looked at my friend at the bar struggling to believe that one bartender could be such a cunt.
So I looked him in the eye, and necked the contents of the glass - this may have shocked dhim. I placed the glass down and stated "asshole" - this did shock him. And I was asked to leave the bar.
Which I did.
( , Mon 9 Feb 2009, 13:38, 7 replies)
Wick?
It's not THAT bad. I mean you invented the Fax machine up there and a massive bloody spoolbase with a bridge over it just round the corner.
( , Mon 9 Feb 2009, 13:47, closed)
It's not THAT bad. I mean you invented the Fax machine up there and a massive bloody spoolbase with a bridge over it just round the corner.
( , Mon 9 Feb 2009, 13:47, closed)
Wetherspoons
only place you can still get a pint without an associated mortgage...
( , Mon 9 Feb 2009, 13:50, closed)
only place you can still get a pint without an associated mortgage...
( , Mon 9 Feb 2009, 13:50, closed)
Well it's true Wick isn't that bad but Saturday nights are terrible now and we're forced to go up to Thurso *shudder*.
And I don't know what the drink was
( , Mon 9 Feb 2009, 14:54, closed)
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