Bearing in mind some of the terrible things that nurses must see, it's no surprise, perhaps, that they would have to develop quite an evil sense of humour in order to cope with it all.
When Ms Nightingale recommended The Pewter Pot to me, for a thumping good night out, I think she must have been aware of their somewhat bizarre initiation ceremony for new customers, insofar as their belief that they need to be thumped by just about everyone in the pub, at least once.
Luckily, I went there on a quiet night!
Even luckier, I suppose, that the landlady, a rather plump and gawdy woman in her fifties that likes to dress like a twelve-year-old St. Trinians student, refrains from such behaviour herself, preferring to save that kind of thing for hospitalizing armed criminals on the odd occasion that they may wish to drop in!
I even noticed customers from The Powell Arms breaking into a little trot as they came past the window.
I'm seriously thinking about moving to Ramsgate's Eastcliff. Having visited a few times, I get the strong impression that it hosts a huge, gay populace. And if any of you ever get invited to that old sea dog Eastcliff Richard's CTM (as I did, a couple of weeks ago), I'd strongly recommend a slice of his Navy cake.
It's moist, nutty and a bit special!
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3 comments:
You forgot to mention that you had to use my tradesmen's entrance.
I also forgot to ask you why your back passage is littered with Netto gnomes.
Very curious!
It's a clue to my real identity. I'm called Richard, I work in the entertainment industry, my back passage is crammed full of gnomes... come on Justin, it doesn't take a rocket scientist!
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