Big Shug
In the old days, the bar was an old-fashioned spit-and-sawdust type place. You know, dirty ashtrays, worn carpet-tiles on the floor, strange smell from the ‘toilets’ (in fact, strange smells from the customers!) and the like. Huge mirrors on the walls, with old out-of-production brewer’s names emblazoned on them. Since all the new refurbishments however, the old regulars have largely stopped coming in. (All I have left now are the memories…!)
It had a great atmosphere though, and the chances for wind-ups and practical jokes were huge. Chief protagonist in these japes was ‘Big Shug’.
Now Big Shug is so named as that’s what he is – BIG – and his name is Shug. So there you go. He was, and still is, 6’2” tall, 18 stone and built like the proverbial barn door (I love mixed metaphors!). Quite intimidating at times, but always good to have on your side rather than against you. A keen Fisherman, Hunter and an excellent Butcher to trade, Big Shug would always have 'something' to do, or a 'bit of business' to attend to. We all know the type, yes?
So, we had a new Barman start in the hotel. His name was Ronnie and he was a young whipper-snapper, his first job serving the public and he was a bit gullible to say the least. Wet-behind-the-ears, as you might say.
Anyway, Ronnie ended up with the Sunday Afternoon shift, which usually meant that Big Shug would be in at some point. And so it was. The conversation went something like this:-
"Good day, Sir! What can I get you?" says Ronnie.
"I'll have a pint of Lager, please. You're new here aren't you?" replies Shug.
"Aye, the name's Ronnie."
"So, what do you think of your first day so far?"
Well actually, I'm feeling a wee bit nervous. I was told there are some 'bad types' on the go today." says Ronnie, with a worried look on his face.
"Really, what's going on?"
"The Pub is being watched by the Police. They're looking for poachers!"
"Uh-huh! Poachers, you say! Do you know who these Poachers are?"
Leaning over, looking furtively left and right, Ronnie whispered "Well, the name I was given was 'Big Shug'……"
Now at this point, Big Shug played a blinder. Rather than get all upset and start to cause any bother, Shug calmly shrugged “Nope, I’ve never heard of him……”.
As the afternoon went on, everyone who came into the Bar greeted Big Shug with the customary ‘Alright Shug?’, ‘How’s it going Shug?’ and ‘Fancy a drink, Shug?’.
Now, imagine what was going through young Ronnie’s mind as the afternoon went on, and the penny ultimately dropped. The mental anguish he must have gone through!
Ronnie understandably took himself off into the Office, and would scarcely come out in embarrassment. And when he did come out, Big Shug made sure that Ronnie’s attention was caught. It couldn't go on much longer. Eventually, things had to come to a head…….
It must have taken all the courage in his scrawny little body to summon up the strength to apologise, face to face with Big Shug. But apologise he did, and then stood back trembling, ready to receive his expected rebuke……
Big Shug, to his eternal credit, just laughed.
And laughed.
Big, whole-hearted, resounding roars of laughter, which only made poor Ronnie more anxious.
“Never mind, my boy. The look on your face as the day went on is punishment enough! But if you don’t mind, can you tell us who put the idea of Poachers into your head….?”
Ronnie had no hesitation in shamelessly grassing up Rosy Old Jim, the Bar Manager (at the time), for he was at the foot of this particular jape.
Whether Jim thought it was funny by the time Big Shug caught up with him is a different story!
Coincidentally, Ronnie didn't last much more than a week………
Monday, June 28, 2004
Sunday, June 27, 2004
New Comments Box!
I have spent all day (except for a couple of hours watching the football) adapting the .blogger template to delete the old 'comments' section at the end of every post.
The new 'comments' section is provided by Haloscan.com, and seems to work OK. The old blogger.com comments were pretty limited, it was difficult to leave a comment unless you were a fellow blogger, so that was obviously crap!
Being an HTML novice, this transition has proved to be a nightmare. If anyone is unhappy at the changes then 'Tough'.
It's there now, so it's staying!
Feel free to add your comments!
The new 'comments' section is provided by Haloscan.com, and seems to work OK. The old blogger.com comments were pretty limited, it was difficult to leave a comment unless you were a fellow blogger, so that was obviously crap!
Being an HTML novice, this transition has proved to be a nightmare. If anyone is unhappy at the changes then 'Tough'.
It's there now, so it's staying!
Feel free to add your comments!
Para-Handy!
School Days - Revisited!
I was reading Scary Duck's story of yesterday, and it reminded me of my own schooldays. I didn't really enjoy school, was never interested in learning stuff about Maths and English and crap like Geometry or Technical Drawing. I was always more interested in football, or computer games (the old ZX Spectrum was my favourite!) and breaking windows accidentally. But more of that later…..
Anyway, I was speaking to 1970's Ian last night after work, and we had a right good laugh about former teachers and stuff.
I used to have a teacher at the High School who we all called 'Para Handy', and he taught 'Navigation'. Now, this is a skill that can only be used at sea, so would only serve people who would go on to join the Navy or those who would join the fishing fleet. So quite rightly no one took any notice whatsoever of the teachings of old Para Handy!
It was a tradition that every year Para Handy would take the class out for a boating trip around the harbour and along the beachfront in his trusty old 18-foot rowing boat.
No matter how many boys were in his class, be it 8 or 28, they all had to pile into this monstrosity of a rowing boat and paddle out into the treacherous Atlantic Ocean (with the water literally inches from spilling over into the boat), where the seas can coup a trawler without warning.
And we had no hint of a life jacket or survival suit! There was one of those big red and white rubber ring type things (Crikey, I can't remember what they're called!) that they throw into the water for you to cling onto. (Got it - Lifebelts!) Goodness knows what would have happened if two lads had gone overboard?
(Well actually, I do know what would have happened - one lad would have drowned within 3 minutes, the other lad would have been hospitalised with severe hypothermia, the school would have been prosecuted and after the inevitable 'Inquiry' would have consequently closed down the school forever, and all the local kids would've had to travel 40 miles just to get to and from school every day. Not to mention the overcrowding at the alternative school…..)
Anyway, it was our turn to go out in the 'boat', and we all trooped down to the harbour with Mr Handy, and upon seeing the aforementioned 'boat', half of the boys decided "I'm not getting into that thing, even if it is filled to the top with 6th year girls without their blouses on" and promptly buggered off back to school (or the Prinny Café for a couple of hours!)
This left 12 of us to venture out into the stormy Firth.
We all clambered in, and took an oar each. And away we paddled.
There was no chanting or cracking of whips, but slowly we managed to build up a rhythm and began to make progress. Soon, we'd be out into the wild bouncy ocean.
All of a sudden, Para Handy shouted from the back of the boat "OK Lads, that's enough, time to head back!".
We were flabbergasted! We hadn't even left the harbour! There was no salty spray on our cheeks (…eh?), and our curiosity at the sight of those huge waves crashing onto the shore was sadly unquenched.
Looking back now, it was obvious what had happened. Para Handy had shit himself with fear at the idea of 12 young boys going to sea in an 18-foot rowing boat, especially when he'd noticed that the sea was not in a particularly forgiving mood.
So, back to school we went, slightly damp and more than slightly annoyed. We wanted to row to Orkney! And back again!
The trouble was that Navigation never got more interesting than this, and for many other pupils even this type of excursion wasn't very interesting. Subsequently, Navigation has seemed to slip from the national curriculum, and poor old Para Handy is now happily retired (or dead. I don't know).
The best thing was that the lads who had bunked off to the Prinny got solid hell from the Deputy Rector when they turned up back at school late, and suspiciously dry!
Anyway, I'm sure the whole adventure helped us all in our careers in the Navy.
Or not.
I was reading Scary Duck's story of yesterday, and it reminded me of my own schooldays. I didn't really enjoy school, was never interested in learning stuff about Maths and English and crap like Geometry or Technical Drawing. I was always more interested in football, or computer games (the old ZX Spectrum was my favourite!) and breaking windows accidentally. But more of that later…..
Anyway, I was speaking to 1970's Ian last night after work, and we had a right good laugh about former teachers and stuff.
I used to have a teacher at the High School who we all called 'Para Handy', and he taught 'Navigation'. Now, this is a skill that can only be used at sea, so would only serve people who would go on to join the Navy or those who would join the fishing fleet. So quite rightly no one took any notice whatsoever of the teachings of old Para Handy!
It was a tradition that every year Para Handy would take the class out for a boating trip around the harbour and along the beachfront in his trusty old 18-foot rowing boat.
No matter how many boys were in his class, be it 8 or 28, they all had to pile into this monstrosity of a rowing boat and paddle out into the treacherous Atlantic Ocean (with the water literally inches from spilling over into the boat), where the seas can coup a trawler without warning.
And we had no hint of a life jacket or survival suit! There was one of those big red and white rubber ring type things (Crikey, I can't remember what they're called!) that they throw into the water for you to cling onto. (Got it - Lifebelts!) Goodness knows what would have happened if two lads had gone overboard?
(Well actually, I do know what would have happened - one lad would have drowned within 3 minutes, the other lad would have been hospitalised with severe hypothermia, the school would have been prosecuted and after the inevitable 'Inquiry' would have consequently closed down the school forever, and all the local kids would've had to travel 40 miles just to get to and from school every day. Not to mention the overcrowding at the alternative school…..)
Anyway, it was our turn to go out in the 'boat', and we all trooped down to the harbour with Mr Handy, and upon seeing the aforementioned 'boat', half of the boys decided "I'm not getting into that thing, even if it is filled to the top with 6th year girls without their blouses on" and promptly buggered off back to school (or the Prinny Café for a couple of hours!)
This left 12 of us to venture out into the stormy Firth.
We all clambered in, and took an oar each. And away we paddled.
There was no chanting or cracking of whips, but slowly we managed to build up a rhythm and began to make progress. Soon, we'd be out into the wild bouncy ocean.
All of a sudden, Para Handy shouted from the back of the boat "OK Lads, that's enough, time to head back!".
We were flabbergasted! We hadn't even left the harbour! There was no salty spray on our cheeks (…eh?), and our curiosity at the sight of those huge waves crashing onto the shore was sadly unquenched.
Looking back now, it was obvious what had happened. Para Handy had shit himself with fear at the idea of 12 young boys going to sea in an 18-foot rowing boat, especially when he'd noticed that the sea was not in a particularly forgiving mood.
So, back to school we went, slightly damp and more than slightly annoyed. We wanted to row to Orkney! And back again!
The trouble was that Navigation never got more interesting than this, and for many other pupils even this type of excursion wasn't very interesting. Subsequently, Navigation has seemed to slip from the national curriculum, and poor old Para Handy is now happily retired (or dead. I don't know).
The best thing was that the lads who had bunked off to the Prinny got solid hell from the Deputy Rector when they turned up back at school late, and suspiciously dry!
Anyway, I'm sure the whole adventure helped us all in our careers in the Navy.
Or not.
Friday, June 25, 2004
How the rest of Europe sees it.....
European Front Page News.....
Well, just goes to show that the English media can get it quite wrong, quite often.
Right, enough of the football, back to Real Life tomorrow!
Well, just goes to show that the English media can get it quite wrong, quite often.
Right, enough of the football, back to Real Life tomorrow!
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Oh, Happy Days......
Euro 2004 Update - Latest News
It's not that I like to gloat too much, I just feel that I have to. It's almost like I am driven to it.
Having watched the game, and listened to the commentators and so called 'pundits' talking absolute drivel about a correctly disallowed goal, I continue to be bemused by these people. At least they are out, and the jingoism will decline as the tournament goes on.
I can relax now, and enjoy the rest of the games. I don't even mind falling another point behind The Professor in our 'Euro 2004 Points-for-Pints Challenge'!
It's not that I like to gloat too much, I just feel that I have to. It's almost like I am driven to it.
Having watched the game, and listened to the commentators and so called 'pundits' talking absolute drivel about a correctly disallowed goal, I continue to be bemused by these people. At least they are out, and the jingoism will decline as the tournament goes on.
I can relax now, and enjoy the rest of the games. I don't even mind falling another point behind The Professor in our 'Euro 2004 Points-for-Pints Challenge'!
Differences between US and UK?
OK, so yesterday there were two American guys in the Bar, just looking for coffee while they waited for their train.
So one guy comes up to the Bar, and asks:-"Two coffees, please?"
I reply:- "Would you like Black or White Coffee?"
And the guy says: "I..I..I'm sorry? I don't know what you mean....?"
My question is:- What did he think I meant?
So one guy comes up to the Bar, and asks:-"Two coffees, please?"
I reply:- "Would you like Black or White Coffee?"
And the guy says: "I..I..I'm sorry? I don't know what you mean....?"
My question is:- What did he think I meant?
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Italy and the notion of 'Attacking Football'
As an absolute football fan (you might have noticed!), I have only this to say after Italy were knocked out of Euro 2004 tonight.
Prof, please don't castigate me for quoting the late, great Jock Stein, after Glasgow Celtic became the first British team to win the European Cup, in 1967:
"There is not a prouder man on God's Earth than me at this moment. Winning was important, aye, but it was the way that we have won that has filled me with satisfaction. We did it by playing football. Pure, beautiful, inventive football. There was not a negative thought in our heads. Inter played right into our hands; it's so sad to see such gifted players shackled by a system that restricts their freedom to think and to act. Our fans would never accept that sort of sterile approach. Our objective is always to try to win with style."
This quote sums up the Italian attitude in one fell swoop. At one stage earlier in the tournament, they were a certainty for the second round when, at 1-0 up against Sweden they sat back and refused to attack. Sweden then punished them with a late equaliser, and deservedly so.
.... Hell will mend them.......
Prof, please don't castigate me for quoting the late, great Jock Stein, after Glasgow Celtic became the first British team to win the European Cup, in 1967:
"There is not a prouder man on God's Earth than me at this moment. Winning was important, aye, but it was the way that we have won that has filled me with satisfaction. We did it by playing football. Pure, beautiful, inventive football. There was not a negative thought in our heads. Inter played right into our hands; it's so sad to see such gifted players shackled by a system that restricts their freedom to think and to act. Our fans would never accept that sort of sterile approach. Our objective is always to try to win with style."
This quote sums up the Italian attitude in one fell swoop. At one stage earlier in the tournament, they were a certainty for the second round when, at 1-0 up against Sweden they sat back and refused to attack. Sweden then punished them with a late equaliser, and deservedly so.
.... Hell will mend them.......
Best Sports Headline Ever?
Click Here !
How good is that? It puts those numbskulls at 'The Sun' to shame!
Edited 16/02/05Updated link.
How good is that? It puts those numbskulls at 'The Sun' to shame!
Edited 16/02/05Updated link.
Monday, June 21, 2004
Weekly Story - Herman!
Ok, I have made the decision to write a humourous story or anecdote once a week or so, just to entertain you both. I'm a bit of a lazy bastard at the best of times! Please feel free to leave comments (about the story, not the 'lazy bastardness'!).
This week's entry is: -
Herman!
This one goes back to the 1980’s, when I used to play football.
DT and I used to play for the local US Base team, full of RAF guys who were stationed there and the odd US player. The US players were really good guys but they knew very little about football (or ‘Soccer’ as only they call it). The crack was excellent, and many nights were spent in the bar after training. But as time went on, the RAF started to pull out of the area, and the team gradually died.
So we started our own football team as none of us were good enough to play for an already established side, and managed to get ourselves into the local ‘Friendly League’ (i.e. It was full of pub teams, and the friendly tag was entirely fictitious, as my shins can still testify!). We played in this league for a couple of years with some notable victories (but more usually heavy defeats) along the way. Then one day Herman arrived….
It was lucky for him that we were contemplating dropping Itchy Knobbs from the team as he’d been playing rubbish, and Herman’s arrival seemed too good to be true…
He was older than us by quite some distance (35 years old), a naturalised Paraguayan serviceman stationed at the previously mentioned US Base, a marathon runner, tri-athlete and most importantly he was South American!
‘Christ, he’s from Paraguay! He’s bound to be better than old Itchy! They grow up playing football on the beaches with rolled up newspapers for a ball! Get him in the team right away!’ was the fateful call.
And so the deed was done, Itchy was banished to the Subs bench and to subsequently never play for us again.
The game kicks off and immediately we’re under pressure. A long ball comes through and ‘Keeper DT ably clutches it to his chest. Seeing Herman out the corner of his eye, DT thinks ‘Right, we’ll see how good Herman is’ and rolls it out to the debutante left back.
What happened next has gone down in local football folklore…
The ball crosses the Penalty box line, and Herman bends down and picks the ball up and gets ready to take a throw-in!
‘PEE-EEP’ went the Ref. Free-kick. Hand-ball on the edge of the box.
Beside me, DT is apoplectic.
‘Christ ‘min, ye cannae be doing that….whit are ye playin’ at? Bloody fool!’
The rest of the team (and the opposition!) were in stitches (except Itchy, whose ‘Face of Fury’ ™ is now an International Trademark!).
Herman played on until half-time, when some other unfortunate sap was put on, and I’m afraid Herman never played for the team again. In fact, I can’t remember anything else about him so he must have just disappeared off the face of the earth. Not surprisingly.
Herman did leave us with one classic quote though, and a fine legacy it is. When asked at half-time ‘Why on earth did you do that?’ he answered: -
"Jeez, sorry Guys, but I’ve never played ‘Outdoor’ Soccer before………….."
Turns out he’d only ever played 5-a-sides in a gymnasium, and didn’t know the full size pitch markings!
We never ever found out his full name and we've never heard of, or from him since. It seems that he could even be a figment of our fevered imaginations.
Let's face it though, I couldn't make this sort of stuff up, eh?
This week's entry is: -
Herman!
This one goes back to the 1980’s, when I used to play football.
DT and I used to play for the local US Base team, full of RAF guys who were stationed there and the odd US player. The US players were really good guys but they knew very little about football (or ‘Soccer’ as only they call it). The crack was excellent, and many nights were spent in the bar after training. But as time went on, the RAF started to pull out of the area, and the team gradually died.
So we started our own football team as none of us were good enough to play for an already established side, and managed to get ourselves into the local ‘Friendly League’ (i.e. It was full of pub teams, and the friendly tag was entirely fictitious, as my shins can still testify!). We played in this league for a couple of years with some notable victories (but more usually heavy defeats) along the way. Then one day Herman arrived….
It was lucky for him that we were contemplating dropping Itchy Knobbs from the team as he’d been playing rubbish, and Herman’s arrival seemed too good to be true…
He was older than us by quite some distance (35 years old), a naturalised Paraguayan serviceman stationed at the previously mentioned US Base, a marathon runner, tri-athlete and most importantly he was South American!
‘Christ, he’s from Paraguay! He’s bound to be better than old Itchy! They grow up playing football on the beaches with rolled up newspapers for a ball! Get him in the team right away!’ was the fateful call.
And so the deed was done, Itchy was banished to the Subs bench and to subsequently never play for us again.
The game kicks off and immediately we’re under pressure. A long ball comes through and ‘Keeper DT ably clutches it to his chest. Seeing Herman out the corner of his eye, DT thinks ‘Right, we’ll see how good Herman is’ and rolls it out to the debutante left back.
What happened next has gone down in local football folklore…
The ball crosses the Penalty box line, and Herman bends down and picks the ball up and gets ready to take a throw-in!
‘PEE-EEP’ went the Ref. Free-kick. Hand-ball on the edge of the box.
Beside me, DT is apoplectic.
‘Christ ‘min, ye cannae be doing that….whit are ye playin’ at? Bloody fool!’
The rest of the team (and the opposition!) were in stitches (except Itchy, whose ‘Face of Fury’ ™ is now an International Trademark!).
Herman played on until half-time, when some other unfortunate sap was put on, and I’m afraid Herman never played for the team again. In fact, I can’t remember anything else about him so he must have just disappeared off the face of the earth. Not surprisingly.
Herman did leave us with one classic quote though, and a fine legacy it is. When asked at half-time ‘Why on earth did you do that?’ he answered: -
"Jeez, sorry Guys, but I’ve never played ‘Outdoor’ Soccer before………….."
Turns out he’d only ever played 5-a-sides in a gymnasium, and didn’t know the full size pitch markings!
We never ever found out his full name and we've never heard of, or from him since. It seems that he could even be a figment of our fevered imaginations.
Let's face it though, I couldn't make this sort of stuff up, eh?
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Saturday, June 19, 2004
The Matrix - Ping-Pong Stylee......
All those who have followed the phenomenal (I only ever type that word when I have been imbibing achoholical beverages...thank Dog I have spelled it correctly, The Professor would never let me live it down!) series of Matrix films can't help but be impressed with the following....
The Matrix - Ping_Pong Stylee!
....But then, even if you can't stand The Matrix, it's still bloody well funny!
It's a small video file, but make sure you have the sound on too....
The Matrix - Ping_Pong Stylee!
....But then, even if you can't stand The Matrix, it's still bloody well funny!
It's a small video file, but make sure you have the sound on too....
Thursday, June 17, 2004
The Things People Say...........
OK, time to introduce you to one of the ‘locals’.
To begin with, I have a story about ‘MarbleMooth John’, so called because he talks like he has marbles in his mouth all the time! It makes it quite difficult to understand him, but after 10 years of (mainly drunken) conversation I have now developed the necessary skills to understand him (most of the time!). He's a good guy, but sadly is rather taken with the drink. In fact, many times have I poured him into a Taxi.
Anyway, it was just after the new bosses took over the Hotel (about 4 years ago, now), spending huge amounts of money turning it from a money-losing waste of non-revenue-earning space, into a respectable 3 star modern hotel.
They were just getting the Kitchen fully operational again after many years of neglect, so as an experiment they decided to put on a special dish for the regulars – Stovies!
Now, everyone knows what ‘stovies’ are? Right? Tatties, onions, Lamb and some dripping. All mixed up together. Slop a dollop on a plate, and eat it with a fork (and some pepper to season it!). Nice and easy to make, and a firm favourite in the cold northern winter.
So the sign goes up – ‘Stovies: £1.50’
....And many hungry and grateful patrons queued up to part with their 1 pounds and 50 pences.
And it was good.......
But not Mr MarbleMooth. Being a wily old crofter at heart, John views bargains with a suitably suspicious eye. With a sly look at the sign, MarbleMooth pipes up with a guarded tone in his voice:-
“Stovies? £1.50?.....But how many do I get……?”
The whole Pub went incredulously quiet. Just for a second or two...
Then cue uproar……………
To begin with, I have a story about ‘MarbleMooth John’, so called because he talks like he has marbles in his mouth all the time! It makes it quite difficult to understand him, but after 10 years of (mainly drunken) conversation I have now developed the necessary skills to understand him (most of the time!). He's a good guy, but sadly is rather taken with the drink. In fact, many times have I poured him into a Taxi.
Anyway, it was just after the new bosses took over the Hotel (about 4 years ago, now), spending huge amounts of money turning it from a money-losing waste of non-revenue-earning space, into a respectable 3 star modern hotel.
They were just getting the Kitchen fully operational again after many years of neglect, so as an experiment they decided to put on a special dish for the regulars – Stovies!
Now, everyone knows what ‘stovies’ are? Right? Tatties, onions, Lamb and some dripping. All mixed up together. Slop a dollop on a plate, and eat it with a fork (and some pepper to season it!). Nice and easy to make, and a firm favourite in the cold northern winter.
So the sign goes up – ‘Stovies: £1.50’
....And many hungry and grateful patrons queued up to part with their 1 pounds and 50 pences.
And it was good.......
But not Mr MarbleMooth. Being a wily old crofter at heart, John views bargains with a suitably suspicious eye. With a sly look at the sign, MarbleMooth pipes up with a guarded tone in his voice:-
“Stovies? £1.50?.....But how many do I get……?”
The whole Pub went incredulously quiet. Just for a second or two...
Then cue uproar……………
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Bloodninja & Cyber
Cyber Sex.
I apologise if you've seen this before, but it still warrants another deek. I can only guess at what goes on.
Cyber Sex Gone Wrong
I don't know if I should be posting such utterly hilarious stuff on here....!
Please, if there are any kiddywinkies out there, don't click on the link.
Hmm, as if they're going to be put off by that, eh?
I apologise if you've seen this before, but it still warrants another deek. I can only guess at what goes on.
Cyber Sex Gone Wrong
I don't know if I should be posting such utterly hilarious stuff on here....!
Please, if there are any kiddywinkies out there, don't click on the link.
Hmm, as if they're going to be put off by that, eh?
Greetings from The View From The Bar....
Greetings, my friend.
I'd like to introduce my attempt at this weblogging lark! I hope it works out OK, and that nobody gets upset with any of the stories I repeat.
I would like to take some time to tell you my name, but alas, I can't. Just call me 'The Man Behind The Bar', OK?
I live in a small Scottish town, and work in a Hotel as a Barman. I have been a Barman for 10 years now, and in my time I have heard and seen some amazingly funny and stupid things. I will attempt to recall them here, for your delectation, I hope!
This is what forms the basis of my Blog.
Along the way, I will introduce you to the vast array of characters that continue to intrude, and have intruded on my daily life, from 'The Professor', through 'The Boss' Wife' to 'Marblemouth John', and many more in between....
I'd like to introduce my attempt at this weblogging lark! I hope it works out OK, and that nobody gets upset with any of the stories I repeat.
I would like to take some time to tell you my name, but alas, I can't. Just call me 'The Man Behind The Bar', OK?
I live in a small Scottish town, and work in a Hotel as a Barman. I have been a Barman for 10 years now, and in my time I have heard and seen some amazingly funny and stupid things. I will attempt to recall them here, for your delectation, I hope!
This is what forms the basis of my Blog.
Along the way, I will introduce you to the vast array of characters that continue to intrude, and have intruded on my daily life, from 'The Professor', through 'The Boss' Wife' to 'Marblemouth John', and many more in between....
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