School Days
"The best years of our lives," somebody lied. Tell us the funniest thing that ever happened at school.
( , Thu 29 Jan 2009, 12:19)
"The best years of our lives," somebody lied. Tell us the funniest thing that ever happened at school.
( , Thu 29 Jan 2009, 12:19)
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Spread Eagle
There was a lovely little pub just down the road from my school, The Spread Eagle. Nice draft beers from strange exotic places like Somerset and Lancashire, stained glass windows, homely, the sort of place you'd feel perfectly comfortable getting absolutely shit faced in.
My posse (a term I actually used, because I was, like, just too cool for school), would trawl up to The Spread Eagle just about every dinnertime.
Usually we'd take two steps into the place before the big burley motherfucker behind the bar told us - in no uncertain terms - that our custom was not wanted.
This kept happening again and again.
We just couldn't figure it out. I mean, we looked old enough. One of our troop even had a pencil thin tash, which he lovingly groomed on a weekly basis and probably stimulated with fine essential oils. And I was sporting the finest George Michael stubble. God, I was cooler than Miami Vice, I was.
Eventually it dawned on us what the fuck the problem was. Well, moreover the barman advised us.
Going in one dinnertime, we got pretty close to the bar this time.
And:
"Lads, lads, lads," says the barman. "If you're gonna come in here and expect to get away with looking eighteen, you could at least have the brains to hide your fucking school blazers in your bags..."
( , Thu 29 Jan 2009, 17:28, 6 replies)
There was a lovely little pub just down the road from my school, The Spread Eagle. Nice draft beers from strange exotic places like Somerset and Lancashire, stained glass windows, homely, the sort of place you'd feel perfectly comfortable getting absolutely shit faced in.
My posse (a term I actually used, because I was, like, just too cool for school), would trawl up to The Spread Eagle just about every dinnertime.
Usually we'd take two steps into the place before the big burley motherfucker behind the bar told us - in no uncertain terms - that our custom was not wanted.
This kept happening again and again.
We just couldn't figure it out. I mean, we looked old enough. One of our troop even had a pencil thin tash, which he lovingly groomed on a weekly basis and probably stimulated with fine essential oils. And I was sporting the finest George Michael stubble. God, I was cooler than Miami Vice, I was.
Eventually it dawned on us what the fuck the problem was. Well, moreover the barman advised us.
Going in one dinnertime, we got pretty close to the bar this time.
And:
"Lads, lads, lads," says the barman. "If you're gonna come in here and expect to get away with looking eighteen, you could at least have the brains to hide your fucking school blazers in your bags..."
( , Thu 29 Jan 2009, 17:28, 6 replies)
This is the one in Northampton...
Though I imagine all Spread Eagles are pretty similar. Hmmm, nothing like the smell of stale vomit and crisps. Lovely!!!
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:18, closed)
Though I imagine all Spread Eagles are pretty similar. Hmmm, nothing like the smell of stale vomit and crisps. Lovely!!!
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:18, closed)
Thank you
And thank you for the spelling help... I am a thick twat...
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:19, closed)
And thank you for the spelling help... I am a thick twat...
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:19, closed)
exotic
Somerset exotic, that's the funniest thing I've read on this entire qotw
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 9:54, closed)
Somerset exotic, that's the funniest thing I've read on this entire qotw
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 9:54, closed)
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