Hello. Archibald Bumslick here in London. That’s England, not Ontario, Arkansas, Nigeria, nor dozens of other Londons that don’t matter a nitty twit.
Big ville, London. Lots to do. Pubs. Theaters. Museums. Shopping. Women without number. Free flowing ale.
Have a gander in the British Dental Association’s Dental Museum. Knew you’d want to know. Admire the big molars on the lass next to you at the bar. Make some off color remarks about her overbite.
The vault at the Hard Rock Café preserves Madonna’s old credit card. Nice tidbit to share with friends. Missed the tower, saw the credit card.
Time to get serious. Here’s list of pubs that’ll rust your pipes. Trust me. Take the hint. Keep the snapping fangs of trouble at bay. Preserve the flex in your knees. Write these down. Mark your map.
1. Ye Ole Red Rosy - Might be interesting once you get inside the bloody place. Long line outside. Then, it’s a tight squeeze. Once you’re in, you feel flushed. This isn’t the worst pub on the list, but it’s right up in there.
2. Squeeze the Dog and Run – They call him man’s best friend, but even your worst enemy won’t crap on your living room rug and look you in the eye. The drinks have something floating on top.
3. My Brittle Bone – Snappy little place. All knees and elbows at the bar. Lots of bars. There’s the Thigh Bar connected to the Hip Bar, etc.
4. The Golden Flow – I almost went in this one, but suddenly I had to go.
5. Happy Jihadist - A thinly veiled disguise. Everything they serve is non-alcoholic. The “Seventy-two Virgins” on toast leads to intestinal discomfort, followed by an explosive race for the loo.
6. The Gay Banana – I just didn’t find this one a-peeling.
7. Ye Salmon-Ella – Right away you smell something fishy. The sign over the bar is a tip off. “What’s eaten here stays here.” That’s mostly true, except for the runny parts that leak under the door.
8. Frog Under Foot - Nauseating décor, all red and green. The beer is flat. Avoid the “Where-the-Rubber-Hits-the-Toad” stew.
9. Duke of Dooky –located on one of the canals, right down the city’s spine and pretty much flush with the walls. Odd smell to the place. Stay away from the sausage rolls.
10. The Severed Arms – Difficult to find. Not on one of the main arteries. Can’t put my finger on what’s missing….oh, yeah, almost forgot.
11. Hair O The Cat Grill – Not for the squeamish. The barkeep is Italian, constantly braying, “Don’ta yu try to cheetah me!” I’m not lion. The litter box lunch is a litter bit off-putting. Strain the soup.
12. Ye Perverted Donkey – Among we Brits it’s known as the Kiss My Mule. A very stable place. Been here for ages. Don’t order the ‘Clod in the Clover’ draft from Recycled Hay Brewery.
Note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to your favorite pub is strictly in your inebriated mind and in the mind of the drunken wench hanging on your arm.