Recorder from hell
They are making me do a bit at work at the moment. Its not particularly bad, but after a while doing more or less bugger all its come as a bit of a shock to the system.
Then I made the mistake of popping into Telford town Centre. Christmas shopping hell. I not only understand but totally sympathise with those who run amuck with machete’s. Keep your children on a lead damn you.
So, I pop down to the oasis that is the Crown for a much needed quiet pint of Hobsons.
And the Hobsons is off.
Not you understand because a tsunami has swept across Cleobury Mortimer and flooded the brewery.
The Delivery van has not been waylaid by vampiric were badgers, the draymen are not lying in a ditch with their throats torn out and their eyeballs pecked by crows.
Nor have giant mutant rust monsters eaten through the barrels in the cellar.
Its not even Hobsons theiving giant bears.
No, all those excuses I could have accepted.
But the truth of the matter is (and lets name and shame here) landlord John Ellis has been to damn lazy to put the beer on stillage.
So, I’m not happy. But it cannot get any worse. Right?
Wrong.
Because they have switched the weekly tragedy that is folk night to Tuesday. And so the musically retarded banjo strangling gimps gather in the back bar. And off goes the led zeppelin that I am enjoying, because it distracts the “musicians”. Ok. Ok. So talentless tone deaf tossers have a right to a good time too. And I can almost cope with it. Until Beardy Bob, the most tone deaf, musically incompetent, talentless tosser of them all, starts on the recorder.
And he appears to be practicing a single note. Over and over.
Whoooo
Whoooo
Whoooo
Its cutting right through me. Its relentless. My fillings are vibrating in my head. The US dont even inflict this sort of treatment on prisoners in Guantanamo .
And I Snap.
I use language.
I leave. My evening ruined.
So that’s it. No more Crown for me when the folk freaks are in. I shall take my custom elsewhere on those nights.
Then I made the mistake of popping into Telford town Centre. Christmas shopping hell. I not only understand but totally sympathise with those who run amuck with machete’s. Keep your children on a lead damn you.
So, I pop down to the oasis that is the Crown for a much needed quiet pint of Hobsons.
And the Hobsons is off.
Not you understand because a tsunami has swept across Cleobury Mortimer and flooded the brewery.
The Delivery van has not been waylaid by vampiric were badgers, the draymen are not lying in a ditch with their throats torn out and their eyeballs pecked by crows.
Nor have giant mutant rust monsters eaten through the barrels in the cellar.
Its not even Hobsons theiving giant bears.
No, all those excuses I could have accepted.
But the truth of the matter is (and lets name and shame here) landlord John Ellis has been to damn lazy to put the beer on stillage.
So, I’m not happy. But it cannot get any worse. Right?
Wrong.
Because they have switched the weekly tragedy that is folk night to Tuesday. And so the musically retarded banjo strangling gimps gather in the back bar. And off goes the led zeppelin that I am enjoying, because it distracts the “musicians”. Ok. Ok. So talentless tone deaf tossers have a right to a good time too. And I can almost cope with it. Until Beardy Bob, the most tone deaf, musically incompetent, talentless tosser of them all, starts on the recorder.
And he appears to be practicing a single note. Over and over.
Whoooo
Whoooo
Whoooo
Its cutting right through me. Its relentless. My fillings are vibrating in my head. The US dont even inflict this sort of treatment on prisoners in Guantanamo .
And I Snap.
I use language.
I leave. My evening ruined.
So that’s it. No more Crown for me when the folk freaks are in. I shall take my custom elsewhere on those nights.
posted by Old Man Rich at 6:01 PM
10 Comments:
Hear hear Rich. I remember him having a bit of a tantrum once cause smone had some music playing from his car to drown out the sound of that damned recorder/penny whistle thingy.
Y'know they used to get free peanuts! t'was and OUTRAGE!
I stopped going in on a wednesday a long while ago. It was the out of tune rendition of leaving on a jet plane twice an hour that did it for me.
its time someone stuffed that recorder up his arse. swiftly followed by the bodrum.
Its not Folk night Rich. Its Acoustic night. Folk night occurs on the last monday of each month. Still its an easy mistake to make given that its the same bunch of musically inept cretins & the same idiot with the annoying whistle.
Can I be the one who gets to stuff the drum up his backside?
I feel a lynching coming on!
Good, good, I can feel the hatred flowing through your veins!
Man you look like me 1st thing in the morning!
(& I am not actually a hamster, btw)
Led Zepplin would be better. Hope you find your beer, but I`m not so too sure about that mustache thingy!
Have a wonderful Christmas :)
tea
xo
Sorry Rich but it's about time everyone saw the true you.
http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1418851737
Cheers
Howard
sounds like a normal night in the crown
Thanks Rich for reminding me why I no longer frequent the Crown. Hats off to the 'Compasses'. Hobsons with a head on it at £1.50 a pint during happy hour. A large screen T.V just for the rugby and not a metal coathanger in sight! No Mr Bean lookalikes and not a tooting, strumming weirdo in sight. Heaven!
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