30 July 2004 17:09
Bugger it. And thrice bugger it.
Finally made it back to El Gato Fatto, but too late. The Doom was gone. And the Special. And the Own.
Still, I had a couple of pints of Spriggan instead, which made up for it a bit. And an excellent Scotch egg, which looked at first as if its mother had had a one night stand with an onion bhaji, but tasted pretty damn fine. Plus you get your own jar of chutney to dip into as well. A1 pub with A1 beer.
As I was wandering back from the Portly Puss, I passed the office of an estate agent/property management company which was desperately trying to look impressive, and on a board outside there was this: "The wisest people we know are those who have been advised by us". And I thought, what an arrogant cnut. Last place I'd go.
Still, enough. There are sausages to grill and Chimbleys to drink. ( Just to keep you up to date and at the cutting edge, Mr C has just produced rather a fine wheat beer called Wigeon)
31 July 2004 15:57
What? Sharp's thieves operating in your area? The bar stewards (had better get some more in).
Scotch eggs and real ale? I bet Helling must have loved you that night! Have you managed to prise the duvet off the ceiling yet? Oh, and where exactly is this pub? I didn't think the A1 went anywhere near East Angular.
The Financial Sharks sound like a class outfit. Apparently, the only other people they know apart from their customers are idiots. Which one of the big four banks did you say it was?
What's it like? And I thought a wigeon was an 18th century pearl-inlaid ivory spatula used to don one's false bouffant hair.
02 August 2004 13:07
Being the sensitive and caring soul that I am, I partook of the Spriggan 'n' Scotch egg combo when Helling was off up north on the relative hunt.
Understandably for a historian, you are easily confused when it comes to geography. The A1 goes through Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire, both of which are part of Greater East Angular, as indeed should most of the country be (except the bits we don't want.)
Depends how you classify the big four banks. I'm not even sure this one would make it into the big four banks in this one kilometre square of eastern iptwich. Certainly not judging on the decor anyway.
The Wigeon is very nice. I reckon it's like an old fashioned pale ale; Mr C says it has a hint of apricot and peach on the palate, and he should know. It's a duck. You're thinking of a gallinule.
02 August 2004 13:47
Who'd have thought it. How did they get the A1 to go through the fens? Is it floated on pontoons or something?
A duck, eh? Or is it just a pigeon, which you winged while out with your punt gun, and is now floating in the water? Isn't Gallinule the planet Doctor Who came from?
04 August 2004 16:14
Nah, it goes under them in a huge great tunnel, but nobody noticed. The bloke who painted the sky did a bloody good job.
If you put a wigeon in the water, it will swim around happily (unless the water is too hot, in which case it will be No. 43 on the takeaway menu). If you put a pigeon in the water, it won't. Unless it's wearing flippers. So there, I can tell the difference. And they taste different as well.
And no, that was Gallimaufry.
05 August 2004 08:54
Probably the same bloke who painted the Pope's ceiling. He got a personal view of heaven.
I thought 43 was crispy duck. Rather more likely to be soggy duck if it has been in boiling water. However, I bow to your (mother) superior knowledge of hydraulics. We haven't been able to establish whether pigeons float down here because the seagulls have eaten them all.
Wasn't he that italian astrologer who the pope threatened to give a burnt steak because he claimed that Planet Oeuf was orbiting the sun and not vice versa?
05 August 2004 09:06
You obviously haven't been to our local takeaway.
No again, you're thinking of Galligaskins, who in addition to all his other talents was the inventor of a very successful pair of gentleman's wide-bodied trousers.
06 August 2004 09:30
Well, obviously not. If it's your local it's hardly likely to be handy for me, is it. I doubt even anyone as ruthlessly industrious as the chinese would expect their five year old son to cycle all the way to Cornwall to do a doorstep delivery.
Isn't that the place in Ireland where they invented the 'up and under' in rugby (as well as the car bomb and handy Swiss, well Irish Republican, Army pocket-sized knee-capping gadget)?
06 August 2004 16:19
I think there should be a question mark at the end of that second sentence, don't you? Anyway, it would get cold on the way.
Nope. That'd be Gallowglass.
And finally, proof, were it needed, that the experiment worked......
06 August 2004 18:51
No. It's a rhetorical question and, therefore, the question mark is left out for emphasis. I've never come across a chinese takeaway that doesn't go cold in transit. Even when you eat it on the premises.
No, he's that renegade MP who used to hang out with Saddam H. (As opposed to the renegade Prime Minister who hangs out with a better class of foreign fascist dictator).
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