Hefner, loons & that bloody woman!

As most of you will realise this job is not just about being a publican, there is a fair dose of care in the community performed for free.Last night I had to deal with a man espousing the genius of Hitler in an attempt to generate conversation, I would have gone for weather as an ice breaker but maybe that’s why I am single I just can’t start a decent conversation!

So this week has brought a guy who randomly, when left alone, shouts out praise for the little German fella with the weird moustache despite the fact that he proudly wears a star of David around his neck. I have a term for these people they are ‘space invaders’ because that is what they do, they invade people’s personal space and conversations. I like to think that I am relatively tolerant and I will keep telling people to keep it down or to keep their opinions to themselves but this week will see two people leave the pub because, simply, they do not have the basic social skills needed for this environment.

The first is the loony shouting man who I have just run out of patience with. Every time he apologises or seems sensible you serve him a half and he degrades into idiocy. There is nothing particularly wrong or rude about him (excluding the Hitler comments) but he is an annoyance and a source of irritation for the rest of my customers. In this instance the next apology will be the last.

The second loss is one that has only been in the pub once and may also lack some of the cans required to make up a six-pack. This guy was as far left-wing as one could get, I know it’s a shame he didn’t meet the Germans fan, and chose also to randomly shout in to other people’s conversations. The reason that this one does not get the opportunity to apologise is what I learnt after he had left. I should set the scene now in the fact that when this chap left the pub, of his own choice, the only people on the premises were myself and an old couple.

Before leaving the loon had messaged his friend/carer to say that he was going to leave soon or he would get beaten up. Obviously I knew nothing of this and watched him merrily stride down the drive and up the road with not a mention of concern for his own safety. When the friend contacted me later that evening to assert that her friend had been followed from the pub and assaulted she went so far as to send me his message alleging that the landlord had ‘ushered me out and smirked as I was roughed up’. At this point it was clear to me that somebody didn’t have the full lunch in his picnic basket and I suggested as much to the friend.

In order to allay any further fears I pointed out that the only person left in the pub when this guy left was a pensioner and he remained on the premises for another hour and a half. I will of course check said person for evidence of some random flash violence but given the sprightly pace the ‘victim’ made I find it highly implausible that they would have even passed in the street. Obviously I cannot be wasting my time dealing with insane allegations made against the business so this is another gentleman who will not be sampling any more of my beer. Another task added to the landlord’s list is ascertaining whether a person has the social and mental ability not only to spend time in a public place but also not to present an unnecessary burden to the business.

In other news it is most definitely seagull season, the delightful flying vermin that they are. Not only are seagulls noisy horrible creatures but they have a sex life that would have been the envy of Hugh Hefner. The valley that runs alongside my bedroom roof and the flat roof outside of my bedroom are being used as the set of some type of seagull porn movie and the cameras roll from 4 am. I have two teenage children and never thought that at this age I would be banging on the window telling seagulls to ‘keep it down’.

As a single man I should also say that I am gradually learning the language of seagulls and can now fluently translate ‘I’m getting it and you aren’t’ from the screeches that the gulls emit as they fly off. Yet another of Ms Nature’s minions that I don’t get along with, damn her!

Empty jam and streetwalkers

I have had a number of people ask me for an update on my current health status so I shall start there today. I am struggling to beat Ms Nature down but, like any pigheaded man, I haven’t let that stop me.  Mornings and evenings are becoming more painful as the wrists seek to reduce my ‘window of operation’ and righty has remembered what fun it is to generate sharp spasms at random times.

Of course I have considered the increased levels of pain and the potential causes and consequences and arrived at a structured plan to rehabilitate. There are two facets to my plan, the first is to ignore any pain and the second is to increase the exercise. My approach has yet to yield improvements but I am confident that a good dose of stubborn will change that in due course.

In other news I think I experience cabbie jealousy over the weekend when picking up my children. Despite several attempts at conversation the driver was resolutely mute until my children got in the car, at which point he wouldn’t shut up. This was more than just conversation, I swear every time my daughter opened her mouth he had to tell a better story, there was a definite case of “he is my friend”.

I would also like to share with you the insanity of tourists. On Sunday I watched as a couple slowly realised that there was no longer a rush to get their young child to the toilet, nothing unusual in that. They proceeded to change said child’s clothing and pack up the rest of their kit and at this point made an odd decision. They placed the wet, or more accurately soiled, clothes on the wall, I can’t fathom why. I can see that they didn’t want to take the dirty clothes home but what was the purpose in leaving them to dry? Were they hoping that when dry somebody would use them without realising? Or perhaps they just thought that such a wonderous thing as child sized denim would astound the locals and left them there for our ‘museum of the future’?

This brings me to rants of the week, the first is to the delightful grocery home delivery service. Part of my groceries last week was a bath mat set, you know the deal a bath mat and a toilet pedestal mat. When I unpacked I found just a bath mat, despite the packaging saying that it was ” two piece”. When I called the other side of the planet, hey why do it in England, they asked if I had received the item and I explained that I had received half of it. I will acknowledge that this was my mistake as the call centre apologised and said that they would refund half of the value. But I don’t have any need for half of a set I responded, indeed they were more than welcome to have the half back  but the problem was that technically I had received the item.

In the end my cell phone signal came to the rescue and dumped the call, when I called back,and regaled the new call centre person with my analogy regarding empty pots of jam having no value despite the pot technically being present, I was rewarded with a refund, in full no less.

The second rant is against UKIP, well actually all of the self-serving, leaching politicians and their street walking cronies. I have a postal vote, I exercised it on Saturday and the envelope which I carried, on that same day, to the post office was most obviously my vote. At this stage my selection is clearly complete so why on earth do you feel the need to assault me on the street? As a rational citizen of the country I have deliberated over the pool of hopeless, arrogant liars that I have to choose from and selected the one who makes my skin crawl the least. When you assault me in the street you change the leaderboard and make me want to remove my support from your particular cretin but the system does not allow me to.

If I open the envelope my vote spoils and my voice is not heard. I am under no illusion that my voice counts you understand but hell I have done my bit, I have selected my cretin so leave me alone. Take note of the comedy sized envelope labeled A or whatever it says and get the hell out of my way. Or perhaps I am misreading the whole scenario, I presumed that these people were simply ignoring the envelope but perhaps they were targeting me. Perhaps this was all some plan to spoil my vote? No, I think not, that would involve a level of intelligence way above that of a politician.