Thursday, 26 April 2007

Bruced And Battered.

With my little sojourns to Ramsgate becoming increasingly more regular of late, last night found me sampling some delightful curry in The Artillery Arms (deffo a gay pub, if ever there was).
Though the pub seems to be replete with cranks, the atmosphere was great and everyone seemed to be having a great time until their King of Crankiness, someone that I could only liken to a cross between Ozzy Osbourne (vagueness) and Kieth Richard's granddad (looks), called Bruce, turned up. At which time, people started leaving in droves!
Puzzled over this, I thought I'd engage the guy in conversation (not difficult, as there was soon just the two of us left). Not normally being one to regret things, I think I'll make an exception in this arsehole's case. Never, ever, in my life have I heard so much drivel from one person in such a short space of time! Also, not being inclined towards rudeness, normally, I found myself, five minutes into the conversation, requesting of him that he 'fuck off and die'.
Needless to say, he did neither, so I found myself leaving half a glass of spritzer and the pub behind.

Such a shame!

Do they have any more like him, going in there?

Tuesday, 24 April 2007

Decaying Orbit.

One of the more noble things about us Birchintonians is, I think, our willingness to accept strangers into our midst. In particular, those strangers that are prepared to offer education, entertainment or both.
One such person, a rather planet shaped fella, arrived, very drunk, in Christies Wine Bar last night to give us a practical demonstration of The Law Of Conservation Of Angular Momentum.
Upon staggering into the place and swaying around for a bit, until he'd located the bar, he decided to use the gravitational field of one of the larger waitresses to accelerate himself and then 'slingshot' towards the lager pumps. A great idea, in principal, however, small errors were made in his calculations which caused him to skim her atmosphere, resulting in a spectacular nose-dive into her moutainous regions. The resulting Tsunami, eminating from the tray of drinks that the poor lass was carrying, took the Brylcream off of a bunch of ageing 'suits' at a nearby table, the tray, itself, knocking the optic off the Malibu bottle behind the bar.

I can't help thinking that, had they used practical demonstrations like that at school, instead of a tennis ball on a bit of string, I may have payed more attention and actually learned something useful!

Friday, 20 April 2007

Snappy Toff.

Much as I love the style of that 'state of Ramsgate bemoaning' Eastcliff Richard, he is cheesing us off a bit, here in Birchington, by constantly having a pop at our First Lady.
I should point out that, despite being only a few miles apart, Birchington and Ramsgate are two very different towns that cater for two very different types of people and there are very few aspects of either that would bear comparison.
It should be borne in mind that the vast majority of people who choose to live in Birchington have either come here to die or smash up phone boxes, NOT to make sandcastles or stare wistfully at gleaming boats in the harbour that they could never afford, whilst sipping lattes that they can only just afford.
I would suggest, before making too many more judgements, that ECR spends a little time living here (you can stay at mine, if you want babe) to get a bit of a feel for what our future President has to contend with.
After a month or so of being surrounded by death and destruction, I'm sure you'll have things a little more 'in perspective' and realise just what a difficult job the good doctor has undertaken.

Birchington is a town replete with undertakers and I wonder, sometimes, if people don't really appreciate that fact!

Wednesday, 18 April 2007

Cop Elation.

Buzzing Birchington Beer Festival would've made a better title but, thanks to a few yobs from Ramsgate that just didn't know when to stop with the cider, in the end we had to call the police to calm things down!
You can imagine, I'm sure, that noone was surprised when the police arrived and knew all of these trouble makers by name. What did come as a bit of a shock was when they started congratulating them for the lovely time that they'd had at The Winter Gardens last weekend and enquiring if they were going to organise a Beer Festival there next Easter.

Well really!!

I'm sure I've seen one of them before, a big surly fella, quite obviously from Yorkshire, that looked a little like Father Ted, playing-up in Churchills in Ramsgate. When I pointed out that his behaviour was a little unbecoming of a man in his position, the string of expletives that he poured in my direction was really quite startling. And besides, I rather think that 'you ar*e f*cking, c*nt' may be somewhat of an oxymoron, just in case he's reading this and is now sober enough to learn something.

Honestly, is Ramsgate really the paradise that Eastcliff Richard makes it out to be?

Saturday, 14 April 2007

Faulty Dours.

In the imortal words of our Lord and saviour, John Cleese, "Don't Mention The War. I did, but I think I got away with it."

Never one to take good advice, I think I'll have a stab at it, anyway.

With all this gorgeous sunshine that we've been having of late, a good portion of the blogging community is starting to show signs of mild sunstroke. However, and at the risk of sounding contradictory of myself, I think that those same bloggers need to get out more.

Bearing that in mind, and risking another pounding from scary Rotarian (swivel on this) Dave for mentioning it, Birchington is (finally) laying on an event, all of it's very own, this afternoon and I'd like to invite all and sundry to join me and my fellow 'gay capital' dwellers for a beer or two and, perhaps, a bit of an infantile giggle instead of the usual infantile rant.

And so as not to appear mean, I'll spend the bus fare that I'll be saving (about bloody time!) on a beer for the first person to approach me and declare "ooh Justin, I want want you're offering in ME!".

Can't say fairer than that, can I?

Wednesday, 11 April 2007

Traction Or Retraction?

That was the choice offered to me in Christies Wine Bar last night by Rotarian Dave, the fella who's organizing our beer festival on Saturday.
Actually, I thought he was being a bit rough and feel that there was absolutely no need to drag me around the place by my throat but he made his point, albeit at the expense of a crack in the perspex cover of the jukebox and a nasty little lump on the back of my head.
I think I'll keep out of the campaigning business from now on.
So, Dave has gently requested that I correct one or two slight errors in my earlier presentation and point out that there are, in fact, a dozen beers on offer, some cider and that none of it is going to be 'almost frozen'.
I've also been asked, if I have any respect for my other testicle, to mention that it's all about fund raising for charity.

There, that done, would whoever has the key to these handcuffs care to come round and remove them from my ankle and my wrist. I had an absolutely miserable time in the bathroom this morning and a couple of experiences that I really don't care to go into to too much detail about, or repeat!

Monday, 9 April 2007

The Real Real Ale Festival.

Not being too impressed with those pipe smoking, chunky cardigan wearing, pot bellied, beer pedants at Thanet CAMRA, we've decided, among us suit wearing, secret handshaking, fill the coffee table with car keys, upper echelon Birchington Rotarians to 'up' our order for this weekend's beer festival and I'm proud to announce that we'll now be offering a selection of over 3,500 different ales, around 600 different ciders, John Smith's Extra Smooth AND HΓΌrlimann Lager!
That ought to show 'em!
The vicar is getting a little worried now, as this will mean extending the event into the church and his house (we'll be booking him into a room over The Pewter Pot for the weekend) but, as we've assured him, it'll put us on the map and hopefully stand us in good stead for getting the theme park and casino that he's dreamt about for the last thirty years. Yes, we know that people will most likely be using the gravestones for support while they syphon off all that excess beer but it can be cleaned up, so don't fret vicky boy.
ALSO (and this is the biggie and the reason that I've been too busy to blog for the last week), every beer is going to be cooled to about 1 degree. We'll be having a team of experts from Churchill's Tavern in Ramsgate to come and help us out with that!

Eat your heart out CAMRA, this is going to net us millions!!!