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Wayne's pains
There's a pub in Oxford opposite the big theatre - the Grapes I think it's called. I'm at the bar getting my round when the guy next to me asks the barmaid for two of those dinky bottles of Woodpecker - one unopened for later - and lo, it's diminutive prancer Wayne Sleep. He must have just finished over the road (hence the considerably older crowd in tonight), and nipped in to slake his thirst on a tiny amount of weak, sweet cider.
Everyone's really pleased to see him and starts telling him so, and he goes round the pub shaking hands, talking to people, taking time and being genuinely nice to one and all. As he's leaving the pub, he's won us all over, and his erstwhile audience are saying what a top chap he is. The pub shouts out in unison "bye Wayne". Wayne turns to give a theatrical wave goodbye, and then twirls back and faceplants the closing door. No-one can help but to laugh and the poor bugger nips out, rather red of face.
(Fri 6th Feb 2009, 22:11, More)