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#Post#: 21108--------------------------------------------------
HOW TO GO TO THE PUB
DIR By: semiauto
Date: December 17, 2013, 8:41 am
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It’s that festive time of year when decent, honest boozers are
plagued by non-drinkers. And not real non-drinkers, not people
who don’t ever drink, they’re fine. We’re talking about people
who don’t go near a pub for 11 months out of the year, the kind
of awful human beings who buy their beer from supermarkets with
the weekly shop, people who consume such a laughable quantity of
alcohol that they can only be designated as “non-drinkers”.
Whether it’s the Christmas Work’s Do or a Festive Drink With
Friends, you are ruining pubs for the rest of us. Everyone hates
you. Every actual drinker in the pub hates you and all the
serving staff hate you. You’re awful. Here’s a guide on how to
not be quite so awful.
[Before we start it's worth pointing out that this guide is NOT
sexist and misogynistic, it's just that 98% of these things
apply almost exclusively to women, because women are so very bad
at The Pub]
Do Not Approach The Bar Until You Know What You Want
The bar is an intricate machine full of
seperate-yet-interconnecting cogs. It is NOT the place to think
or choose or decide. The engine only works if everyone knows
their place and performs their function. Do you hear that
collective groan as you ask the Bartender if they’ve got
Cranberry Juice? Or as you turn around to ask Barbara what she
wants to drink? That groan is you single-handedly sucking life
away from your fellow drinkers. Make a decision first, then go
to the bar and order what you’ve selected. Just like ANY OTHER
FORM OF COMMERCE!
Don’t Start Drinking At 4pm
You’re NOT a drinker. We haven’t seen you all year. You’re an
amature, so don’t start out with a Marathon. You can’t just rock
up to the Premier League one day saying “I’m Match Fit, lads!”
This is why you’re puking and crying before nine o’clock at
night.
You ARE In A Round
I don’t care who you’re with, how many of you there are or how
well you know them. You are in a Round with all the people you
came in with. That’s how it works. You see those twenty-five
loud, burly, drunken Rugby Players on the other side of the pub?
They are a pleasure to serve compared to you. They order eight
pints of lager, eight pints of Guiness, six pints of bitter and
three Jack Daniels, then they pay the bill in one fell swoop.
Your group orders ten drinks one-at-a-time and then pays for
them all one-at-a-time as the rest of pub creeps closer to
Death’s eternal grasp waiting for you to finish, despite the
fact nine of you are drinking the same fucking drink and the
last person, THE LAST PERSON, wants a Guiness putting on. Every
single person waiting to get served wants your group to die in a
complicated house fire.
Know Your Locale
Look around you. What kind of drinking establishment are you in?
Is it a pub or a bar? If there’s 85 lads watching football on
the telly, stop trying to be a drunk, flirty attention-whore
because it won’t work. If the walls are cluttered with offers of
6 Shots Of Neon Sourz For A Fiver, don’t try asking for that
Single Malt whiskey you memorized from Mad Men. Equally, if it’s
a pub adorned with wood furnishings and hand-pulls, stop trying
to get the Landlord to make that shitty cocktail you saw on Sex
And The City.
Busy-Pub-Cheeky-Tongue
Look at them, they’re doing it right
Hot Girls Get Served First
Welcome to Western Civilization.
iPhone Ettiquette
Okay, the music isn’t great. It’s nothing to write home about.
But it’s been specifically selected to offend the least amount
of people. It’s background music. If you want anything else,
then you want to be at a club or a gig. If, however, you’ve
decided to “do the pub a favour” by blaring out a playlist from
your iPhone, then you are a cunt. A prize, prize cunt.
Attracting Attention
Newsflash: You are NOT next. You might have been in the bar
queue longer than anybody else, but that doesn’t mean you’re
next. Do y’know why? Because there are no Official Rules Of
Queueing At The Bar. The Bartender is 100% in charge of who is
next. So do not piss them off. Yes, they can see you. You do not
need to bang your change on the top of the bar. You do not need
to wave your money around in the air, as if you’re the only
person in the room with a tenner (unless it’s a Strip Club). You
especially do not need to click your fingers like a Parisian
Cafe Prick or whistle like a Shepherd herding his flock. These
tactics will only achieve one outcome: no matter how long you’ve
been waiting up until this point, you’ve just moved yourself to
the back of the queue.
Preferential Treatment
If an old bloke sat at the bar gets served before you do, and
the Bartender knows him by name and even seems to know what he’s
drinking before he orders it, just shut the fuck up. That’s Ray.
Ray drinks here all the time. Ray drinks here five times a week,
every week. Ray’s custom pays the bills. Ray and the other
Regulars keep the pub open eleven months of the year whilst
you’re having diner parties and bulk-buying booze from the
supermarket. Yes, they get preferential treatment. Accept it and
shut the fuck up.
Time Is Time
Pubs don’t stop serving because they hate you (that’s a lie,
sometimes they do) or because it’s funny or because they get
bored of selling beer. It’s a legal requirement for them to stop
serving at a designated time. Once Time is called, they are
legally unable to sell anymore beer. You cannot cajole them into
selling more, because it’s a legal requirement. You cannot bribe
them into selling more, either with the promise of drinks or
money, because it’s a legal requirement. You cannot reason or
argue them into selling more, because it’s a legal fucking
requirement. “Who’s gonna know? There’s nobody around, I won’t
tell anyone.” THAT’S HOW THE HOLOCAUST STARTED!
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