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Trying to go gastro: Five death knells for your local pub

WITH pubs in the UK shutting down at an alarming rate, here are five traditional desperation measures that mean a boozer is about to close for good.

Trying to ‘go gastro’

Pub food is simple: burgers, gammon and pineapple and maybe a lasagne if the chef went to college. So for an average pub a gastro revamp is a sign of trouble. Suddenly you’re confronted by an array of horrors by a cook who doesn’t know what he’s doing: ‘crayfish scotch egg with curry sauce’, ‘rump of wood pigeon in a chocolat jus’, ‘chicken carpaccio with stewed prunes’. Luckily they’ll shut down before there’s a mass poisoning.

Only the local pisshead goes in

When a formerly buzzing local starts to die, there’s one customer who remains loyal – the local alkie. He’s got his own stool and he’s been in every day for the past 17 years to enjoy the sparkling conversation of a few morose words with the landlord. The place is only open because he’s too addled to realise it’s cheaper to buy a bottle of voddy and sit in the park. Still, he’ll be saving some cash soon.

The landlord actually starts working

Darren the ‘gaffer’ might have his name above the door, but for years it’s just been his personal social club to drink pints every night with the regulars. Now he’s had to sack all the barmaids he wanted to shag and start doing some shifts himself. Unfortunately, he can’t pour a Guinness and doesn’t know how to operate the till. It’s his own fault for slacking off all these years, but you can’t help feeling sorry for him when asking for a spritzer sends him into a tailspin of confusion.

Strippers at noon on a Tuesday

Quiz night, karaoke and bingo have all failed to get punters in, so how about a woman willing to take her clothes off? It’s a tragic affair and everyone just feels grubby and just stares into their pint of Coors. The pub still closes down and with hindsight it was unfair to expect miracles from Katrina’s tits. On the other hand it was rough as f**k anyway, and if they turn it into a Costa at least you won’t get battered for spilling someone’s caramel macchiato with hazelnut syrup.

They’ve stopped showing the football

Despite installing far too many flat screen tellies only a few years ago, the price of Sky Sports means they’ve stopped showing the footie. So now those huge TVs just play whatever sport is free: crown green bowling, athletics and the rubbish version of darts. Or they’re left on BBC1 all day, so you can enjoy Pointless on mute then The One Show on mute right through to The Ten O’Clock News on mute, making frontline reports from Ukraine weirdly relaxing.

London snow more important and expensive than rest of country's snow

THE snow which has fallen on London is more significant and valuable than snow that has settled in other areas, it has been confirmed.

Meteorologists are in agreement that the snow in the capital is of an all-round higher grade – and therefore more disruptive – than the worthless flakes of white muck which have drifted down outside the M25.

Scientist Susan Traherne said: “London snow might look like ordinary snow to the layman. But under the microscope you can see the crystals are really trendy and more worthy of everyone’s interest.

“It’s no accident or a freak Arctic blast that brought these crystals to the city. They were likely attracted to its luxury apartments, thriving media industry and diverse blend of cultures. Why would they choose to land anywhere else?

“Meanwhile the cheap and nasty dandruff-like snow coming down in other parts of the country is so insignificant the news isn’t talking about it. And rightly so. It’s disgusting.

“Some ordinary flakes of snow might get ideas above their station and drift towards London to study at Goldsmiths, but it’s only a matter of time until they’re forced out by rental prices. Good riddance, I say.”

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