I went for a few pints on Saturday.
Normally I wouldn’t mention such a mundane thing, but this was different.
The difference was that I wasn’t drinking down in the pub. I was in a different place, that I wouldn’t class as a pub at all. It was a hell hole of a drinking emporium that almost had me screaming to sign The Pledge just to get out of it.
The pub in the village is a nice quiet spot. It is a place of quiet chat and conviviality where the locals go for a few pints, a smoke and maybe a game of cards. The only sounds to be heard there are the murmur of conversation, the clink of the glasses and occasionally the soft thump of Spanner passing out off his stool. It is an oasis of calm in a hectic life where we set the world to rights and have a laugh.
The place I was in on Saturday was different.
It was one of those modern places, and the first thing that struck me when I walked in was the noise. There was fucking music blaring out of speakers that seemed to be everywhere. Where there wasn’t a loudspeaker, there was a television. This place was like the television section of Power City as there were fucking screens everywhere, and they were all showing football. Of course everyone was shouting at each other over the background noise and the overall experience was one of sensory overload.
I sat down in the quietest corner I could find, under one of the television screens. For some reason, all the televisions were on without sound, so it was a little quieter there.
I hadn’t been there long when this bloke came in with his girlfriend and sat down near me. She was pleasant enough on the eye, so that was something for me to ogle. All he was interested in though was the football on the screen. He started shouting at the muted figures and got really worked up over the match. At one stage, someone obviously nearly scored a goal and Wanker nearly had a heart attack. He roared at the screen and waved his fists in the air while his poor girlfriend tried to concentrate on the crossword she was doing. At this stage, I hoped someone would score a goal, as it would be interesting to watch someone having a coronary.
Unfortunately, the blokes I was waiting on arrived so I had to leave Wanker and his girlfriend to it. We went out the back to the beer garden, where it was cold, but at least it was quiet and there was no nauseating stench of stale perfume and farts.
A while later, as we left, I had a look to see if Wanker was still there but he wasn’t.
Apparently someone had scored a goal.
The ambulance was just leaving as we stepped outside into the night air.