Regulars

Pubs and clubs frequented by thugs looking for cheap tugs.

Pug fugly mugs, murky eyes

and exposed jugs in a misty smoke,

.

A quick toke before you batter some bloke

with your impudent bladder sack six pack,

pissing sit ups from lager and hic-ups

.

I know, I know,

"if we weren't here it wouldn't be our local"

you've bought shares in repetition,

blabbering blind drunken repetition

This won't mean many pubs close in Bangalore, because there weren't very many pubs anyway, despite it being the "pub capital" of India. We are always recommended to go to the "Hard Rock Cafe" or "TGI Friday" for a good time, so you can tell the place is really buzzing.

The pubs in Bangalore are really not that wonderful. "Pub World" for example, seems to be populated by middle aged men sharing pitchers of Kingfisher and watching cricket - which is legion. NASA is really off the wall - the people there look like they're wearing airline uniforms, not astronaut helmets. Once more, this is restricted to middle-aged saddos.

The Bangalore guide - link on the right down a bit, said that the Underground is a really happening place. It's not. It shut down three years ago, we are informed. 

In short, now India is introducing the "no smoking" rule, it seems that Bangalore will be even less the "pub capital of India". The hacks in the Examiner Bengaluru office tell me you can't smoke on the railways either, not even if you're on the roof. But if you slip the guards 10 or 20 bucks - rupees not greenbacks - it could well be overlooked as a misdemeanour.

If you're convicted of smoking on the trains, you can get six months in jail, maximum. Golly, ciggie smoking is a dangerous habit, isn't it? ♦

The Zythophile has a very interesting post about Irish and Scottish heather ales, showing connections to a Viking past.

Alan writes in defence of corn, pointing out that it can be something more than a cheap industrial ingredient.

And, veteran writer David Bell, who is Stonch's father, writes about rural English pubs so seductively it has you reaching for your hiking boots.

Dublin needs some lesbian taxi drivers, it'd make a welcome change from all the racist, scurvy infested, generally tick, ultra-opinionated rat cabs we have at home. Seriously though, how many times in a single night can you give out about immigrants and de-regulation?

When you get into a taxi you pick up a few indicaters as to the kind of ride your about to have. The driver being dressed head to glove compartment in leopard print generally means that she's a bit of a character, like last night. The fact that you've found a taxi driver who has her own friend (as opposed to boring the shite off yours) generally means that she is at least tolerable as human being, if not likeable even-like last night. The fact that you got in a taxi a full twenty minutes after the rest of your mates and beat them to the house whilst being let off the hook for a short fair purely on the basis of being cool and you actually really wish you had more money for which to give a deserved tip-generally means that lesbian taxi drivers are the greatest people in the world. yes, that was a full stop

*for an American audience; the word craic is unique to the island of Ireland and I have tried very hard over many long years to describe it in English but to no avail. The closest I've come is banter with added laughter, which isn't very cose at all because it can also produce revelations.

Oh the band, yes, the band-they were really good! Lead singer rocked it like a see-saw on a bouncing castle, no, really. The crowd was shit though, too cool to dance, which brought them down a bit but thats not their fault. And I don't buy the excuse that they're not a groove-worthy band either because superfan Laneways was giving it socks, I'm just chalking it up as further proof that the majority of 'indy' folk are just posers who don't care any more or less about music than the airheads in XXIs. I just don't get the mentality of going to a gig to watch and not be moved, not be a part of it, your better off staying at home. I dunno, I'm probably way off on this one and I know someone is going to make a valid point that blows my whole theory to shit. May as well say it now, if you reference lemonjelly or belle and sebastian in your response you can fuck right off down to the shop and buy some testicals**.

Another reason the crowd was shit was because everyone just dissappeard the second the show was over, no really, everyone. I know its a different culture over here and blah de blah de blah but c'mon people, lets get pissed! Nobody even hung about to meet the band(which to be honest, is something I don't normally do either). There were so few people about that Laneways got all their autographs as well as photos with them before, with suprising assertiveness, giving out to them for not playing the songs she wanted to hear-respect!

The ride home is a whole different post but I woke up this morning and felt like death. My stomach hates me, whiskey hangovers always happen in the gut, and I always had a straight glass in my hand last night-its the type of hangover where you wake up and immediately know that the day will be spent paying for past sins, in a purgatory of flatulence and self pity. All they had was Jameson and Jack, both dirt, I've been a whiskey man long enough to know it was going to be bad but you always forget just how bad.

*yes, that is the plural and yes, its happened before. I have never been so intimidated as when a load of lesbians were hitting on Laneways and I simply was not allowed to talk under pain of castration-and thats a lot of pain

**Wow, this post really is a load of cock and balls(cough)-pun intended

Monday was Sea Day and most people had the day off. We had a mini UK reunion at a pub in Yurakucho, which is near Ginza. The Rose and Crown, on the surface, is quite authentic. As shabby as much of England is, the pubs are always meticulously cared for. And the Rose and Crown follows this practice, with its busy baroque patterns, dark woods, and dour bartenders.

Though they serve the beer in imperial pint glasses (which are larger than American pints) there is a bit of foam on top unlike in England. Real British pints are filled up to the very top. No foam. Still, it’s far better than other Tokyo bars where the beer is about 25-33% foam. Their signature beer, the Rose Ale, has a bit of bite, but it’s suited to Japanese tastes. It’s better in the half-and-half.

We all ordered fish and chips but it wasn’t anything like real fish and chips. First of all, it wasn’t greasy enough. It was served in four small pieces, accompanied by pretty potato wedges. Fish and chips should be big, in one piece, liberally breaded, wrapped in newspaper, soaking up the oil. The fish and chips at the Rose and Crown was disappointingly healthy and palatable.

Nevertheless, whenever I’m in the neighborhood, I like to pop in for a pint. It felt like “home” the first time I wandered in, fresh from England. And by “home”, I mean like an ex-con pining for the prison mess hall. There’s a happy hour until 7pm. I recommend going there then because otherwise the beer costs nearly 1,000 yen. There’s also a fine scotch list if that’s your fancy.

But pining for “home” was really about missing the great community of friends I had in England. Of the 100 or so who were in my MA program, about 80 were non-British. We were a close-knit multinational group of fun-loving people. Our department, Peace Studies, was referred to by others as Party Studies since we were always organizing events with each other.

So it’s always great to see my old friends from England. On Monday, though they were all Japanese, they still spoke English with each other. Probably out of respect for my terrible Japanese, and maybe because that was the language they spoke when they lived among each other in England. It’s also typical of Japanese hospitality. I’ve found that most Japanese don’t mind that foreigners have lived in their country for years and still can’t speak the language. I think it’s embarrassingly arrogant that so many of us can’t. I’ve got to write more about this later.

Disturbing the Peace in Hibiya Park

We had a good time at the pub, but afterwards we opted to buy liquor at the convenience store and continue our party at Hibiya Park, which used to be owned by feudal lords. There were lots of couples taking in the breezy evening air, and a small homeless encampment made of blue tarps and cardboard boxes in one corner of the park.

Unlike in the US, it’s perfectly legal to drink in public. We sat outside in the warm breezy summer night and chatted and laughed. Continuing the British theme, the gardens at Hibiya Park were landscaped to look like something out of Kensington Gardens. The lawns are cordoned off with decorate wrought iron chains.

I suggested that we step over the low chain and sit on the grass, but my fellow merrymakers felt this was forbidden, which it probably was. So public drinking and homeless squatters are acceptable but the lawn was off-limits? After hanging out on the benches and looking at the inviting grass, the American in me said, hey who’s it hurting if we sit down on the grass? So that’s what we did. After all, in this globalized world, we should be blending the best of all traditions. In this case, public drinking and sitting on the lawn were an excellent cross-cultural match.

I have stopped smoking.  

It wasn't something that I had planned to do, however, the reasons why I have kept smoking for so long, now seem as clouded as a bar, pre 1st July 2007.

My pain is just the nicotine leaving my body.  I have been addicted for a while.  I am still happy with my caffeine addiction.  It doesn't rot me as quickly.

I have to say that the first few days cold turkey were Hell on Earth and I pity everyone that has gone through that process.  It was the most anxious, panicky sensation that felt like it would go on forever.

Day two was equally bad.  I bumped into a mutual friend who is a smoking cessation nurse.  She recommended to get some nicotine gum.  I did and that subsided the worry in my gut and gave me back the ability to concentrate.

I had a day off the gum yesterday and have now decided to have two or three pieces today.  The gum gave me a mild holiday stomach a couple of days ago, which is why I held off.  Apart from obviously chewing it too quickly and poisoning myself with a fast dose of nicotine, it made me feel sick that day.  A day off and I felt twitchy and even though I want to rid the nicotine fix fully, the gum has to be better than the cigarette.

I believed that smoking was relaxing and that it tasted okay and honestly, I thought that I could take it or leave it.  I have since found out that when you do try to leave it, suddenly it is your best friend and doesn't want to go away.  Ever.  Good friends know when it's time to go.  Please leave me alone.  20 years or so is enough!

I feel quite Human today, even though I can still feel the monster in my stomach shouting for a drag.  I have been assured that my sense of humour will return and that I will be able to smile naturally without the need to (a) grimace, or (b) just to bare my teeth and hope for the best.  

Every day is a day further away from the last cigarette.

Just to prove that life certainly does go on - and gets better, check out this couple on YouTube.  I love em!

The Norwegian summer is short and hectic, and people tend to congregate at the prime watering holes whenever the sun pokes through. The locals come armed with their credit cards, prepared to pay what it costs. For foreign visitors, though, be prepared to pay 10 Euro for a 0.5 liter glass on the waterfront. If you seek out a more quiet place, the prices are more humane. There is an online list of places to avoid here.

People tend to blame the taxes, but the profit margins are high. The alcohol duty on a 80 kroner beer is about 8,50, and the brewery takes 17,50. You should be able to save up a bit for a rainy day on the difference.

• Files put under sub-directory under web site
• sub-directory has its own web.config

Solutions:

• These lines should put be in web.config under the home directory       
  <caching>
              <sqlCacheDependency enabled="true" pollTime="1000">
                  <databases>
                      <add name="Pubs" connectionStringName="Pubs"/>
                  </databases>
              </sqlCacheDependency>
          </caching>
• These lines should be put in sub-directory web.config
          <add name="Pubs" connectionString="Server=(local)\SQLExpress;Integrated Security=True;Database=pubs;Persist Security Info=True"
            providerName="System.Data.SqlClient" />

Todays image is the Silverton Pub, just 1,183Km west of Sydney near Broken Hill. Once a thriving mining town of 3,000 people, Silverton is now a ghost town with a pub and several other historic buildings.

Welcome to Silverton.

I've never quite got around to mentioning The Hare and Billet pub.  Just down the road from the Pagoda, and Jack the Ripper's house (possibly not), is this quiet little pub.  Much more low key than the Princess of Wales pub, but none the worse for it.  You won't find blaring music or surly teenagers serving you... It's more of a old fashioned country pub, with nice views of the heath from the front windows.

The pub is run by Greene King, which I don't think has the best ales.  Their IPA is nice though...  Abbot ale is not for me, and their Flowers has occasionally been known to be distinctly off (although when I mentioned this, they apologised striaght away, and got me a pint of something else).

They also sell Aspall Draught Cider, which is excellent, as well as lots of dodgy looking lemon and lime ciders "Kopparberg?", sponsored by Bulmers - a name to strike fear into the heart of anyone who likes a good cider...

I can't understand the sudden popularity of Bulmers cider - I watched the 1970s horror that is Abigail's Party the other day, and Bev was waxing lyrical about how wonderful it is. This should be warning enough to anyone... Anyway, back to the plot...

For such an old pub ( it has been there since at least 1765), it can feel strangely generic, with adverts for bruised boxers promoting Nuts TV staring down at you in the gents toilets, flat screen TVs playing sport, and quiz machines flashing their wares in the corner.  Having said that, the TV tends to be off during the day time.

It is much much better for a quiet sort of pint than the Princess of Wales at the weekend.  It has a friendly looking dog (called Bonnie), and pleasant bar staff.  The bangers and mash is also very good, they do great vegetarian bangers.  We also had an opportunity to look at, and nearly taste the pork ones too, as they came over first by mistake!  (Again, the staff were very sorry, and brough the right ones over soon enough!  I think we're just unlucky or something)...

If they only had some space outside, and some local beers, it would be a truly great pub.  There used to be a Blackheath Brewery serving light ale onto the Heath in the 1820s, although I suppose the nearest thing we have to that is Zero Degrees, now.

Anyway, all in all, it's a nice place, and well worth a trip if you fancy a quiet pint.  More on the investigations into The Dacre Arms, over at the other end of Blackheath soon...

Fancyapint.com has a review here.

 We all know that this government introduced  24 hour drinking. Well, we were all a little surprised but it gradually emerged that they planned to introduce super casinos, to help those who weren't already in the poverty trap, get well and truly stuffed. But gradually as the supercasinos hit the dust, and the media attention turned to our younger generations, there began to be noises about curbing the sale of drink and almost every other means that the man in the street had to achieve the necessary oblivion and relief from the overwhelming state inteference.

Then there was anti-smoking, anti-fun, anti-everything legislation which J. Rotten Esq, expressed in a refreshing un-PC way in his recent thank you speech at the MOJO awards:

"You can't smoke in the building, you can't smoke in your own car," he said.  "They used to be worried about what you smoked and now it's just smoking, period."

And , in case further proof were needed of the complete inanity of Gordon Brown and his government of no talent whatsoever, there is another masterstroke in the making. Today, we hear that there are plans to legislate against excess alcohol which is costing the NHS a small fortune - allegedly. Gordon wants to stop the under-21s from drinking and restrict the rest of us, with, wait for it, another tax - the social responsibility tax.

So here is yet another U turn, another piece of legislation for the statute books (they are turning them out at one a day at the moment) and another piece of inconsistency.

It is, in Gordon's world, apparently OK to go and vote or to go and get shot for your country, but God forbid, you want to go and drink a pint.

The rest of us can look forward to being taxed even further on our misery in order to fund Gordon's rape and mismanagement of the economy.

I never thought I'd say it, but I almost begin to feel sorry for Alastair Darling. I suppose he can always go and have a dram, providing he can find a pub that will agree to serve him.....

The UK has seen a 6% spike in the number of alcohol-related hospital admissions.

Annually, almost a million people (800,000+) are heading to the hospital with injuries and illnesses brought on by drinking. That is about four times the number of alcohol-related admissions from 2007.

Public Health Minister, Dawn Primarolo, states the "irresponsible and harmful practices" are killing Britain's residents to the tune of heart disease and stroke caused by excessive drinking.

The KPMG performed an audit and recommended a complete overhaul of the laws which govern the alcohol industry. This increase may lead to a ban on nightclub and pub happy hours all around the UK. Things are so bad, the UK government accuses Britain of having a problem with binge-drinking.

Who knew the British could out-drink Americans?

Six pubs in Denbighshire, Wales, organized a joint beer festival last weekend and, as they are spread along the vale of Clwyd , they wereoffering a bus service between the pubs. An all day bus ticket cost the same as a pint of beer.

Cunningly, there was a list of the beers on offer during the festival, but they did not tell you which beers  to be found in each pub.

A good concept, and I presume a good way of checking out if they've had one pint too many is to ask them to pronounce Llangynhafal.

This story is nicked from the BBC. The photo is nicked from the web site of the pub.

You know the drill; first on 'Pride (In The Name Of Love) segueing into a bit of Van Morrison. Then to diversify a bit 'Real Gone Kid' by Deacon Blue enters the arena, before the 'Irish Rover', always the 'Irish Rover'. You might, at this point, get a bit of the Fratellis before 'The Whole of the Moon' and the inevitable 'Don't Go' by Hothouse Flowers. It is, one must say, a rare occasion if you were to get some other, less accessible bands from the Emerald Isle. I would happily listen to a few choice cuts from the Fatima Mansions or even Therapy? Still, mustn't scare the punters.

I just wonder, is there a central place where playlists for bars get decided? A sort of 1984-style faceless building, where a Winston sits looking at the order and responding appropriately? 'Wine Bar, bit trendy, Sarf London; prescribe Simply Red, Wilson Phillips, Beverly Craven, Sade, KT Tunstall. 80's Theme Bar, sells inflatables, stupid cocktails on sale? Prescribe Cyndi Lauper, Dire Straits, Shakin' Stevens and Yazz.' If this is the case, I volunteer to do any bar which wants to set up as an alt.country bar. I'm not too sure what the decor would be like - old copies of 'No Depression' scattered around the place and lots of check shirts, I suppose - but we could have a right laugh. Bit of Son Volt, some Nadine, a few Jayhawks....it wouldn't be that busy, but it would be THE place to be seen. If you like alt.country, to be fair. Not much use to you if not.

perhaps a few laments on how much i am missing places like barca / havana / the hill in general.

through living in north london as opposed to zone one, different experiences are had. normal people, living their lives - not hordes of tourists at chintzy pubs on every corner. while wandering around, unemployed and watching my money drain away through the U.S. dollar -- UK pound sterling conversion, the beauty of st. john's wood and our ridiculous proximity to abbey road prove to be quite an asset.

in true, capitol hill style fashion, after a trip to the enterprise right off the chalk farm road tube on friday night, some quite nice english blokes introduced us to the wonders of the marathon (or really, "marathun" if we're talking accents here). truly NOT a kebab shop, but a music venue and beer garden all in one; the only admission ticket you need is (apparently) a can of beer, which you buy across the counter. fantastic.

• 250-590-SOLOMONS (250-590-7656)
• http://solomons.ca/

 

]]> http://blpisani.wordpress.com/?p=31 Fri, 18 Jul 2008 03:33:01 +0000 Red Wolf http://blpisani.wordpress.com/?p=31 I'm done prepping the garden.  I have 6 16sqft beds, clay dug out of them, and good dirt and compost put in.  I have 8 stalks of corn and at least 4 (maybe 8, but I'm not sure) watermelons gowing (thanks to dad).  One or two of the watermelons, only about 3" above the ground, are blooming.  I'll photograph my work after I've cleared out the tree branch I've pulled out, one that fell a few weeks ago during strong wind.  Hand saw, here I come...

Calculus is kicking my butt, and I'm having second thoughts about this whole teaching thing.  It's such to the point that I've had another idea.  Here's the story behind it:

Calculus had been wearing me down, and the wife had gone out with a friend of hers from college to celebrate that friend's birthday, when the wife decided to call and ask if I wanted to go out with them.  I agreed, and we headed for a gastropub in Knoxville's Old City district, The Crown & Goose.  Well, if you've ever been in that area on a Saturday night about 10:30 at night, you'll know what parking's like, as in nigh non-existent.  So, we headed for an old favorite, Union Jack's on Northshore, which we arrived at after being confused by the detour signs in that area for I-40.  We got there, had some beer, and headed home.  While we were at UJ's, the wife said, "I wish we had one of these in Maryville."  Or, something like that.  Well, it got me thinking.  Why not put one in Maryville?  Not necessarily a Union Jack's or a Crown & Goose, but perhaps something in-between.  A beer, cider, wine & mead bar (no liquor) with a dining room, a British/Irish pub done American style with British inspired food.  Grands plans for one man and no idea how to write a business plan.  I can imagine a whole book just for the place's plan.  Eventually I want to add a tea room and Orthodox Christian bookstore next to it.

On that note, if anyone's feeling brave enough to collect names of alcohol distributors used by Union Jack's, Crown & Goose, and/or other places with good beer selections in the area, I'd be very appreciative.

Translation:  Yes, this is a real plan.  The wife even said she thinks it'll be so much fun.  I agree.  I'm not blind to the work it'll take, though.  There are a lot of plans to be made and a lot of work to implement those plans.  Stock?  Beers from around the world, meads from around the world, fresh and hard ciders, and some wines.  Beer challenge copycat?  Sort of, yes, using a point system with annual winners getting an actual prize.  Actual pub?  Yes, since pubs should be open to families, not just some people wanting to nibble on something while drinking and smoking.  Smoking?  Only outside, and not at the entrance.  Darts, billiards, other entertainment?  Of course!  And so many other things to think about.

I have a name picked out with a hidden meaning:  The Bell & Dragon.  I have a menu worked out.  These things, of course, are moot without a location, money, and things with which to fill said location.  And money.  Did I mention this will take money?  Something I'm not good with.

Well, to cut the ramblings off there, this will take a couple of years.  I've been told I need to get a regular job for a couple of years to help get financially prepared to delve into this.  May be teaching.  May be something else.  If anyone had a good idea how to write up a business plan for something like this, I'd be grateful.  Any other information would be appreciated, too.

Cheers for now,

Red Wolf

Source du visuel : http://www.millaj.com/

]]> http://mjbest.wordpress.com/?p=196 Thu, 17 Jul 2008 20:42:51 +0000 Michelle Best http://mjbest.wordpress.com/?p=196 It's always portrayed that all binge drinkers are seventeen year olds boozing on alcopops on a Saturday night. I'm sure this happens but my experience of binge drinkers is normally of women on a night out away from their husbands and kids. A lot of friends I know don't drink at home so when they are out they go crazy but only on nights out if it's a party. Going to the pub or a restaurant doesn't count as a binge drink night, normally it's only me drinking vast qualities. I do not class myself as a binge drinker as I don't mind drinking a beer or making a cocktail for myself at home and I've learnt my lesson for drinking too much in the past. The past two times it has involved mixing my drinks and shots of B52s or some sort of liqueur, and then I'm sick and past out. Feeling like crap the very next day.

Anyway back to binge drinkers, the London Major would like to ban 21 years old from buying alcohol in shops in London and its boroughs, even though it is legal to buy it at 18. Most shops locally say you have to look over 25 or you will get ask ID. Maybe soon we will be like the States and you haved to be over 21s to buy alcohol anywhere (not sure if this true for all parts of America but can't be bothered to research it). I think most kids get their alcohol from their parents - I've been round someone's house and their 16 year old daughter was drinking alcopops all evening and then, their 14 year old wanted one so they let her too. I was driving that evening so my views on it are a bit bias as I was jealous! Teenagers will still get cheap cider or wine no matter what laws they bring in, personally I think it's all part of growing up. I have fond memories of drinking cheap cider and dancing to The Prodigy in someone's front room at a house party. Then again, I only discovered alcohol when I could get into pubs and clubs at 18, so I wasn't exactly breaking the law.

Sóóóóóóóóó, táimid ag tabhairt buile mór mílteach don deoch anocht. Níl aon post agam, níl aon airgead agam, níl aon cailín agam agus tá mo chara ag fágáil don Astráil-dá ma rud é gurb í mo mháithir mo deirfiúr bheadh amhráin ar an sean-nós againn! Ar aon nós ní féidir liom fanacht, i ndiadh an lá a bhí a'am inniú dfhéadfinn James Gate a dhúnadh ar feadh coicís. Nílaim ag magadh, bhí sé go hainnis.

D'imigh mé chuig aggallamh i gcóir phost nach dtosnaíonn ar feadh trí seachtain, glaoigh mo mham orm agus bain sí an ceann dom thar an easpa obair agus ansin fuair mé amach go bhfuil i bhfad níos lú airgead agam ná a cheap mé. Só d'imigh mé abhaile chuig na scammaill liath chun fáil amach go raibh triocha dollar le híoch agam don siopadóireacht!!!  Droch feckin lá!

Leis sin a rá, tá cúpla rudaí ag dul i gcearrt. Thug an cailín deas ó Mheicsicó 'cookie' dom saor in aisce, fadas a bhí mé ag fanacht don aggallamh, ansin thug sí na súile dubh dom agus mé ag fágáil gan a huimhir (nó "tip", deirfhinn go raibh sé sin é níos mó) fiú. FUCK OFF, pócaí follamh-cloiginn tinn. B'fhéidir nach bhfuil sé sin an sampla is fearr, hmmmmm......

Táim ag dul chuig Berkley anocht. Cailíní-yay! Alcól-yay! Cailíní-yay arís! Níl an airgead agam don póit ach níl an rogha agam ach oiread, tá orm fáil amach as an diabhaill teach seo le hadhaigh rud eichint seachas droch-nuacht ar a laghad lá amháin in adhaigh an seachtain.

*gangsta gangsta yo, holla!