Rub a Dub

We are off to the local on Saturday to meet some old friends.

The local used to be a bikers' pub.



Now you're more likely to see golfers.



When we were regulars, a Lloyd Cole lookalike was, too.



Joining him in misery was his girlfriend, a Hazel O'Connor lookalike.



Last time we were there, a topless man was being thrown out just as we made our entrance.



But the pub's in the Good Beer Guide now. So we're expecting a more refined clientele.



Cheers!

Me and The Salesman: A Fantasy

I tell the salesman, "Last time we ordered one we had our old one with a company called A. The salesman said A were in the process of being taken over by a larger company and he himself was in the process of moving to a different company, B, and would we like to buy B's product? I thought that was a bit sneaky so neither A nor B got our business and we used C."

"Was it Harry W?" asks the salesman.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"We took over A," he says. "Harry did leave for B but he was back with us within a year. He's not on the road any more, he's working in the office now, somewhere more suitable for a man of his experience. Lovely man, Harry. One of the best. Old school."

"No he wasn't," I say. "He was a smarmy creep just like you are, just like most salesmen I've had the displeasure to do business with. In fact, if I was writing Death of a Salesman, the death would involve horrific bollock-crunching torture. I'd like to see the salesman smarm his way out of that one."