Tuesday, 22 January 2008

RIP - The Public House

We’ll you asked for it and now you have it. No cunt in his right mind wants to go down the pub anymore. Why? Because you can’t smoke, drink, eat or talk in them anymore. Standing at the bar is considered a health and safety risk and the Latvian barman has not the slightest idea what a Pork Scratching is when he offers you some tofu “bar snack” made from reconstituted buttermilk and organic straw.

Remember the way people used to meet in a pub? Not any more they don’t. They meet in the Gym or Starbucks and sit there sipping on little bottles of water flown half way round the world and costing £8 each. Remember how you would furtively lust after the little blond in the corner and finally, after downing twelve pints of Guinness go over and introduce yourself with breath stinking of an Irishman’s crotch and a fag end hanging on your lower lip? No chance. The only way you can get off with birds these days is to go speed dating at a “wine bar” that wants to remind you that you are only allowed, by law, to consume 7.2 units of alcohol or you will be burned at the stake.

Most of the banks that closed were turned into pubs and they have now gone bust as huge expanses of parquet flooring that should be full to the brim with heaving totty pretending to jig along to some god awful music are empty whilst blokes stood at the bar and tried to guess which one of them would suck their cocks round the back of Asdas later.

A whole culture decimated by a little sign that says “no smoking”

My prediction is that society will break down. People will no longer speak to each other. People will stay home, ordering booze and fags anonymously from Dutch websites. Secluded from civility, they will turn into drunken, nicotine stained hermits, wearing nothing but tea towels.

Empty is the new black

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