I walk into the pub. A big place with a stage where they put on entertainment. I go to the bar and the barman greets me.
"What can I get you, sir?"
There is an array of fine real ales. I can't choose, there is too much choice.
A bearded man appears to my left and says to the barman, "He's a newbie. He'll have what newbies have."
The barman pours me two halves of two different ales. Medium strength.
"You owe me 50p," says the bearded man.
Of course I don't.
I find a stool at the bar and sit alone with my two halves. Except there aren't two, there are three. Where did the other one come from and which are mine?
I spend the next hour drinking the beer. I compare and contrast, taking gulps from each of the three glasses in turn. Three glasses because I don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
I am feeling pleasantly relaxed. This is the pub I've been looking for all my life. Nobody is bothering me, nobody is annoying me.
"One two, one two."
Somebody's on stage. It's the man with the beard. He has an acoustic guitar. He starts to sing.
50p. That's all I ask,
To point you to the tastiest cask.
To cap it all you drink my half.
Do you see this fucker laugh?
When you leave you'll meet outside
Some friends of mine, you cannot hide.
They'll beat you to a bloody mess
And that's my story, more or less.
Happy Birthday, Mr. DeVice!
11 hours ago