The Slow Death of the Local Pub

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I think this is really sad.

BBC News Link

And I’m not mocking.

Village pubs are the centre, people go there for a chat, some gossip, but also someone says some old sod can’t get to the shop, so someone calls in with his shopping, and so on.

It’s not just a pub, it’s a community centre, lose that and the village will die.

Nominated by: Jeezum Priest

100 thoughts on “The Slow Death of the Local Pub”

  1. Developers will be in, rip the soul out the community and stuff some refugees in there. Job done. It’s a fucking shambles and all pubs should be grade 1 listed with Covenants put on them.

  2. Add in the March of The Dinghy Dung and it’s no surprise many pubs in our towns and cities struggle.

    Big fan of the W’spoons breakfast myself.

    Extra bacon naturally.

    #fucksyria

  3. Well I have to say, like going to the chippy for cod and chips.
    It’s become to expensive, £4.00 for a pint, wtf when did going for a pint become a luxury. 11p is what I paid for my first pint of John Willies, two bob for fish/chips/ bits.
    No surprise they are shutting..🍺 ☹️

  5. Sobering nom JP, my local village pub is almost 400 years old and still going strong thankfully. The shop went a couple of years back due to the pandemic and cuntish management and if the pub went the same way it would just kill the village.

    • It’s sad to see. Villages are being absorbed into ‘developments’ or ‘new towns’ left right and fucking centre. And I can guess what these new towns will be filled with 😡

      RIP England

  6. Used a great pub for some years while I lived locally. Mostly served mild which was excellent. But the first time I went in there I ordered a brown and mild. Instant silence.

    After about three years of regular patronage and generally being ignored as a heretic (the mild really was about the best you’ll see anywhere) one day I said something and this 100-year-old man said, “R.”

    I was offered a game of dominos and joined in but it was serious mild business in there, minimal conversation, constant dominos. Still there in 2021 and I’ve just looked them up: “Food & Drink” has 1 photo. A pint of mild. Good to know.

  7. It is sad Jeezum, but it is only an extra push to what has been happening for years. In this end of the world there seems to be a remarkably consistent pattern in the way the pubs go down. Step one; the pub closes and signs go up offering the lease or freehold. Step two; after about a year the building reopens as an indian restaurant, often with much fanfare in the local media. Step three; after a year to eighteen months the restaurant folds and the signs go back up. Step four; perhaps a year later the building is demolished and the site is redeveloped as flats or houses. Two pubs within walking distance have closed in recent times, one is at step one, the other is at step two.

  8. Pubs have been fucked for a long time, breweries fucking over the landlords, taking all the internal walls down so you have to listen to whatever is on the 10 huge fucking tellys, or the local gobshite mouthing off again, food pubs, out of control feral kids whos parents obviously missed out the manners teaching bit, expensive beer, the smoking ban, karaoke machines, useless bar staff, mutton dressed up as lamb,Covid the list goes on and on.
    Eventually you realise you can save a fortune buying your beer from a supermarket, listen or watch whatever the fuck you want when you want, not have to listen to drunken cunts and their cunt kids while they argue over who wants the peas from their allday breakfast at 9pm.
    My local had a new landlord several years back, he was an uba cunt and over night pissed off half the regulars who never went back, from a financial point of view a bit of an own gaol, but good enough for the cunt.
    Pubs are not the same unless your lucky enough to have a little village pub that hasnt been fucked with yet, enjoy it while its lasts, im sure it wont be to long before its full of benefit cheats moaning about cladding and how they feel victimised by the locals.
    Nowadays im starting to think its not going to be good to live long enough to see the fuckmuppery this country is going to have to injure, pubs are just another thing that your average Brit is going to have to live without…..

    • Just saying Margaret Thatcher tried to break up breweries from having a monopoly. Yet they paid no attention and now green king majority owner by the Chinese you get the same standard bland boring atmosphere. Yawn, I cannot stand them establishments. It’s full of Instagram cunts.

  9. Most of them are shite anyhow….offering a menu afore you’ve even asked for a drink…full of fucking incomers,children,ramblers. caravanners and assorted boring local windbags who won’t do the decent thing and drop dead.

    • ” Spontaneous Folk Night” was a particularly vexing experience….load of fucking incomers and a couple of hippies caterwauling to spectacularly badly played Northumbrian pipes…it really was fucking appalling and when I insisted that they move so that we could play darts….I thought the Cunts were going to cry at my sheer barbarism….tried to get the juke-box fired up too but the fucking landlord wouldn’t be on…keep the turned volume low but at least it was enough to shift the twee wankers.

      • ” meet on the ledge
        We’re gonna meet on the ledge,
        When my time is up in gonna see all my friends “…

        Love a bit of folk music me.

        https://youtu.be/avX5VlU7MXM

        I’d of loved them Northumbrian pipes!

      • How marvelous!
        Soothing.
        Admittedly the kitchen floor takes a right hammering but nowt wrong with that!

        That’s your heritage!
        You should take it up.

        Meet new people, learn a new skill,
        Be socialable Dick,
        Might cop off?

        The sound of clogs and animal rutting setting the hounds to howling..😃

      • I fucking well wouldn’t want to “cop off” with any Cunt prepared to involve themselves in such fuckwittery.

    • I walked out of a Pub a few weeks ago…hadn’t been in for 7 odd years but was passing and thought I’d have a look in…some cheeky eastern European behind the bar had the gall to tell me that my pint would be £4.80….I told him that it fucking wouldn’t be…he could stick it up his arse afore I paid that price…that silenced the Cunt and I made a dignified exit leaving the gold-plated pint sitting on the bar.

      • I saw it was £8 a pint in our glorious capital the other week. Madness. Are you the type of kindly soul dropping off shopping for vulnerable people JP mentioned in his nom Fiddler?

      • Surprisingly enough,I’m not,LL….”vulnerable” people are usually crotchety old Bastards who are too idle to get on a bus ( free pass) and do their own shopping…or spaccy people who would probably ask me to put a ramp into the back of the pickup….push them up there in their chariot and then drive them through town at 10 mph while they waved at people as if they were the Pope….the cheeky,disrespectful Cunts.

      • We used to have a cunt behind the bar who would always say that’s JUST £10.80 or whatever when you could buy 4 tins from Tesco for £2 I always told him to fuck off. It’s 3 years today since I went into any pub as it was Mother’s 80 birthday she’s 83 today and still going strong.

      • DF-F – Evening DF – I have done that myself when I made the mistake of walking into an “artisan pub” which opened up.
        There was utter silence when I got the price (£6.50) then I said “no” and left.
        Money talks.

      • I’m really not shy about doing it,Vern….I did the same in a butcher’s in Morpeth the other week..asked for a small bit of wing-rib costing about £25….Cunt cut a bit and said “will £32 be O.K?”….I told him it fucking wouldn’t be and he started muttering that he’d cut it now…told him he’d best find someone willing to pay for it then and walked out…it wasn’t the money that irked me..it was the nerve of the Cunt.

  10. Good nom.

    Still a fair few pubs in my local area but I’d say during my lifetime at least half have closed and been redeveloped as either massive oversized houses for some overpaid bigheaded cunts or converted into flats for dug addicts.

    I love nothing more than a few pints and a few frames of snooker in the local club near me but the sad feeling that it won’t be around for much longer is overwhelming.

    A sad state of affairs indeed but typical of the inward looking selfish narcissistic society we have gradually become where any sense of community spirit is long gone.

    • Good nom JP👍

      The local boozer is certainly up against it.
      The pub I go every Sunday is thriving but they get a lot of walkers , day out families due to being at the start/finish of the Pennine way.
      But the amount of pubs shut from my youth is depressing.

      • Mnc@ – All but two of my local pubs which I can actually stand to walk in (the rest are filled with coked up underage big mouth shits) have been shut and turned into flats for smack rats.
        Average of one stabbing a week now.

      • Foxy@

        What about in York Centre?
        Ive drank in some cracking little pubs in York.
        No working mens clubs nearby with subsidised bar?

        There’s a pub in Stockport (Samuel Smith’s) where a pint of smooth is cheap as fuck.

      • Evening, MNC.

        Is that the Sam Smith’s near The Cracked Actor that’s cash only and has banned phones/tablets, etc?

        Cracking boozer.

    • “Community” is code for Stanleys ’round here. They love a good piss up, then Lambos till 5am 100+ in a 30. I’m so enriched. Three (blonde) daughters, see their eyes light up when we’re out minding our own.

      Fuck knows the future, but my guess it’s not like my childhood. Cunts.

  11. I had a walk through the village of Ham near Richmond upon Thames last week.
    The two pubs there were boarded up.
    One of them was a nice little boozer.
    I shouldn’t have been surprised, the area is full of 1£m+ houses and probably owned by foreigners or those cunts of champagne socialists who hate anything that smacks of England or the working man. Just let the pubs die is probably their attitude.
    As for the Cunts in Westminster, they probably don’t use them, thanks to their subsidised bars, the hatred they have of the electorate or the chance they will be recognised and get a kicking. 🥊.
    Mind you the price of beer round my way is eyewatering @£5 for a pint doesn’t help the pubs cause.

    • Dysart Arms and Fox and Duck perchance?
      Richmond,Ham,Kew, full of dullard toffs who frequent dinner parties and talk about their Umbrian villas.
      Get to fuck.

      • The Ship on Richmond Green was a great pub in the 1970s. My best mate lived nearby. I remember a great piss up with the landlord in 1976. His ambition was to sell up and buy a trawler.
        Funny how a drunken night from half a century ago is so strong in the memory.

      • Hello Morello
        One of them was The Ham Arms couldn’t see the name of the other as it was boarded up but I had frequented it before and it was quite traditional inside.
        Wasn’t the Dysart at the bottom of Richmond Hill, biggish pub? If so it’s gone.

      • Know the area well. Christ, if pubs (or more latterly “Fine Dining, with Rooms”) are gone there, we are indeed fucked. It used to be a decent place in the 90’s (even for an impoverished student).

        At least we have ISAC, where abuse can still be hurled at life’s cuntitude while swigging from shop-bought booze

  12. The football and the pub, the centre of social and cultural life for the working class. The football has gradually been taken away from us with ridiculous ticket prices and endless wokie virtue signalling. Now it’s a “world game” funded by w*gs watching on TV all over the world, clubs owned by w*gs and teams full of even more fucking w*gs.
    The pub has been going the same way for years, starting with the smoking ban. These energy price rip offs will finish off so many more. My local turned into a Tesco Express about 5 years ago. Still, at least it’s not a fucking mosque. Spoons is really the last bastion of the working man but I expect the cunts will come for that eventually. They want us all at home, staring at the idiot box, living life vicariously through a computer screen. Then they can fill our heads with their happy clappy bullshit propaganda. The world is changing before our very eyes and there seems to be fuck all we can do about it. That’s why sites like this exist I suppose.

  13. You are right about society having a role in its demise. Lots of people get angry when a pub closes, but I’ve heard a few landlords say that if those who are angry had been to the pub more than the odd occasion, they wouldn’t be closing.
    I know there is a massive difference between pub and supermarket prices, but you have no social element to drinking at home, unless you have a load of people around, which is difficult at times for many reasons.

    Also, there’s no one to say ‘don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ I know a couple of folk who have drunk themselves to death, not helped by the total normalcy of getting wasted alone at home.

    I do like a spoons, cheap beer, no fucking jukebox or worse, some poxy DJ, where you give up talking because it’s too fucking loud.
    But you can’t beat a tidy, real, old type pub.

  14. The Biker pub I spent many of my formative years in is now a place of worship.
    Guess the religion… 🤬🤬🤬

    And of the two local pubs in the village where we now live, one is a curry house (admittedly quite good and the staff seem nice enough) and the other has been closed and empty for five years.
    Just my luck to move to the only village in England without a functioning pub…

  15. My 3 locals, down from 13 over the years tend to be local use only.
    A more parochial, insular,thicker mob of corn cob sucking bumpkins you couldn’t hope to imagine. I escaped from the big shitty to what I thought was pastoral England but instead got the polo set and assorted serfs with the most appalling IQ and an inbred naivity that makes me wish they get tucked up by some racketeering spiv townie.
    Don’t get me started on farm vehicles the size of Starship Enterprise hogging the roads and expecting me to be grateful, I buy from small outlets, these farmer cunts are an agro-industry in their own right maximising yield for the supermarkets and their pockets.
    A pox on these superstitious peasants, go throw rocks at the moon.

    • I was talking to my black friend Gary Lineker about it only the other day and he stopped going to pubs after all the racist abuse he received in them.

    • My sentiments exactly SV. Luckily, my local 350+ years old stone built is thriving. No food, no fruit machines, just ale and banter. I visit every day, as it’s around 30 feet away, have a pint, go home, peel spuds, go back, another pint, go home, peel some veg, and so on and so forth. I’d be gutted if it closed, it’s like an extension of my cottage.
      Too many cunts drinking at home and most likely drinking more than if they went out.
      I reckon supermarkets should be on a level playing field with pubs, it’s a ducking disgrace.
      On a lighter note, my little town has had three new pubs open in the last couple of years, good ales and not expensive.

  18. The internet has also killed the pub.

    One of the highlights for me was that pissed up load of bollocks conversation you’d have with ‘the bloke down the pub’.

    “Stevie Wonder was actually in the special forces and changed his identity to avoid foreign terrorists. He’s not blind, his real name is Simon Meldrew and his ‘songs’ are sung by one of the backing singers from 5 Star.”

    Now, some cunt ‘Googles’ it and spoils the fun with a ‘I think you’ll find…’

    One thing I remember hearing for real was that this fella had worked on the QE2. While her Maj was on board she’d blocked the royal bog. This bloke said he was one of the plumbers and was tasked with unblocking the bog. He said he took a Tupperware box and saved her turd in it. Kept it in his freezer for years.

    Not sure what he’d get for it at auction though. Maybe it’s a family heirloom?

    Fuck off.

    • Hahaha 😂👍
      Tell him to put it on eBay.
      Start a bidding war.

      Like you CB I enjoy the “man down the pub” or ‘pub nutter.

      I’ve heard some right bollocks, met at least 300 members of the SAS, met spies, mediums, druids, and various other characters.

      My first regular pub from a youth had some bloke called Keith who dressed like a cowboy and got sectioned for sending threatening letters to the Queen.

      • Mnc@ – Afternoon Mnc, apologies – couldn’t post on your earlier comment about pubs in York – there is a Wetherspoons (don’t judge me you monsters!) where you can walk round the back away from the nonsense and baying chavs inside and sit by the side of the river – middle of Piccadilly in all the hustle and bustle but very peaceful and scenic in the beer garden bit.
        Yates Wine Lodge – a bit “chavvy” but really nice staff and bouncers and a decent pint (and packed with “friendly Laydees”!), The Hogs Head (marvellous food – the inside is an old wine cellar which is massive – don’t bother with the Stone Roses bar – packed with deafening student Gwant types) but I have to say I have never been in the Fleece or The Roman Baths as yet. (As I recall).
        Must make a point of doing so the next time I am in York and not driving.

  19. Alf Garnett sitting in the pub with his jug pint, puffing on his pipe……..

    “I’ve lived under thirteen Prime Ministers…..and I’ve been bleedin’ poor under every one of them. Innit fair eh? Innit bloody fair.”

    We’ll never see the likes again.

  20. Many of the boozers where I am are not tied to any brewery, and are privately owned.
    Cheapest beer is the locally brewed bitter at £2.70 a pint. You can get Tim Taylor’s Landlord for only £3.00 in one place.
    Still, it’s not a cheap as Tesco bitter at £1.25 for four cans.

  21. You bunch of bastards talking about pubs when you know I have no access to one.

    Sports bars being the closest the Yanks can get which isn’t even remotely close. Loud, obnoxious, TVs everywhere, fast food, table/booth service and full of Yanks, strangely. Plus they sell chemically infused fizzy water which Yanks laughably call beer for some reason. Bless.

    I’m dying for a proper English pint. And a sausage roll.

    • What about pork pies, Rington’s tea, mushy peas, fish and chips, Sam Smiths (controversial given Humph’s cuntishness), crisps, proper bacon, footpaths, black pudding, chips (the proper ones, not crinkle cut)? Sorry, just jealous, lol.

      • I do love a pork pie, ’tis true. What do they call those pork pies with an egg in the middle? Still pork pie? Not sure.

        There’s a “British shop” a little ways from where we live that sells fish and chips. It’s actually not bad. Not as good as home grown, but very passable.

        Proper bacon? To me, that would be smoked back bacon. Haven’t had that in years. Couple of grilled rashers on fresh crusty bread from the local bakery stop, spread with Anchor butter. This is torture! What Yanks call bacon is actually rashers of streaky fat. No joke. If you want bacon which actually has some meat in it, that’s what Yanks call Canadian bacon – not the same thing at all.

        I can get crisps, but they’re always bloody Walkers. I hate that brand for the obvious reason. Occasionally I see Tayto brand which I’ve never heard of. Some Irish shite I think. Love Golden Wonder Cheese & Onion crisps. Haven’t had those in so long.

        Black pudding? That’s not passing my lips in this lifetime. Should be banned for crimes against food.

        Ugh! There are days when I miss Blighty. But then I realise the Blighty I miss is Blighty of 20 years ago and it doesn’t exist anymore. More’s the pity.

      • Gala pie.
        The pork pie with a egg in.

        I’ll take your slur on black pudding with the understanding your missing home IY.

        It’s majestic, black pudding,
        Love it.

        I’d be homesick sat on the plane at Manchester airport,
        Why I could never emigrate.

        How about these IY?

        Yorkshire tea
        Yorkshire pudding
        Pint of mild
        Cricket
        Church bells
        Victoria sponge
        Liver an onions
        Hot pot
        Warburton white bread

      • I get homesick venturing outside of Lincolnshire Miserable, “look at those freaks with their five fingers! What dark magic is this?”

      • Hi Mis –

        Haha. Yeah, black pudding. I think it must be a marmite thing. Love it or hate it. To be honest, I have never tried it because – and this is crucial – I was told what it is. I can’t be dealing with that. No way, Jose!

        On to your list:

        Yorkshire tea – not bad, but I’m a PG Tips man by heart.
        Yorkshire pudding – hell yeah!
        Pint of mild – I’d take bitter first, but a mild would do
        Cricket – ZZZZZ, any “sport” that takes 5 days to play a game isn’t a sport, it’s a leisurely pastime
        Church bells – good one, haven’t heard those for a long while
        Victoria sponge – Yes! Love a bit of cake, me
        Liver an onions – Yuck! When I was a kid, I used to love this and steak & kidney pie too. As I got older and found out what livers and kidneys do, I stopped immediately!
        Hot pot – nice.
        Warburton white bread – not sure what this is as I’ve never heard of Warburton’s. A million years ago you used to be able to get a white bread called Mighty White. Is that still sold in the UK or have we all moved on? Used to inhale that stuff at college, along with Krona spread. Remember that? Wasn’t butter but was way nicer than margarine.

        Thanks for the intel on pork pies with the egg. Mum used to make those from time to time. The trick was always to wait for your slice so you got a good section of yolk.

        Thems were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end…..

      • I remember Krona IY,
        Not sure mighty white still exists!!
        It’s probably a hate crime.

        Warburton s bread was advertised by thespian an crybaby Robert senior at one point,
        Possibly the performance of his life😃

      • I have a mate who lives in the States IY, place called Monroe, in Michigan I believe. The 3 things he misses are…..

        1 The pub
        2 The betting shop
        3 The British sense of humour

        Of course he fucked off 20 years ago so the Britain he remembers ain’t the same anymore.

      • Hi Freddie –

        I know what your mate means. The British pub is a wonderful thing. For the last few years before I pulled an exit stage left and moved to the US, I was fortunate enough to be able to frequent a lovely old quaint country pub. Open fire, quiet enough you could hear the clock ticking, soppy pub dog who’d nuzzle up to you, peaceful atmosphere, really good food too as it happens and my favourite beer.

        Eating/drinking out in the US is so loud and obnoxious. I have never found anywhere to go where you can enjoy a nice quiet drink. Unless it’s at an odd hour of the day and hardly anyone else is in the place.

        The humour too is massive. We do sarcasm unlike anyone else. It’s our default go-to form of wit and repartee. Yanks aren’t tuned into it and mostly don’t get it. If they do understand the sarcasm, they’re more often than not offended or consider it very rude and negative, rather than funny which is how it’s (mostly) intended.

        I’d never thought of betting shops. I’ve never been in one so don’t ever think about them, but actually I don’t think they’re a thing in the US. Certainly not where I lived.

        Your friend probably also has this strange sense of alienation when they visit ‘home’. Everything looks familiar, but so much has changed. It’s a real mind freak to watch UK telly and not know who the presenters/personalities are. Shops can also be weird. I don’t know if the UK still does chip & pin with credit cards, but Yank credit cards don’t have pin numbers. Trying to use one in a UK shop can be awkward. Plus there are well established chains I don’t know anything about. From reading this site, I understand there’s a chain of bakeries called Greggs. Never heard of them. And a restaurant chain called Nandos. Same thing, never heard of them either. Still, thanks to fucking Amazon I expect most high streets are ghost towns these days.

        Cheers – IY.

  22. Have a listen to The Kinks ‘Village Green Preservation Society’ album. Released in 1968 it remains bittersweet.
    Think I may get pissed this evening.

    • Thanks to your suggestion I listened to that in its entirety on the drive to work this morning. Splendid stuff.
      An age we’ll never see again.

  23. Anybody in the Beaconsfield area at liberty on Sunday lunchtimes, who wishes to support the local boozer should be reminded that at The Rose & Crown, Dominic Grieve, at the electric organ, still has his weekend residency. This coming week, June 26th, you can see him with his special guest, blues singer Diane Abbott (“I’m a big fat mamma, with the meat shakin’ on ma bones”). Swing and Sway the Dominic Way starts at 12 – admission £5 each for Charity – and Charity says she is very grateful.

    In the evening Owen Jones will be presenting his special drag night – a throwback to the 1950s. They really knew how to entertain in those days – they knew, but they just didn’t bother.

    • WCB@ – Evening Mr Boggs – is Grangela Rayner still calling herself “Charity” for her evening job then? 😀

  24. Myriad factors have made pubs unattractive to landlords and customers, as mentioned above. The alternative of buying from the supermarket is a cheaper but pretty poor substitute. Most bottled beers are shit compared to draft, and then there’s the missing social element. I’m fortunate where I live, to have two small breweries who do carry outs. 3 litres of ale starting at about £12 straight out of the pump ain’t bad value. As for the social bit, I have no answer. The days of the whole street congregating in the Rovers after work died years ago. Sadly there’s no way back.

  25. Kicking smokers outside was the final straw, 40% of the population 80% of the clientele. Topping off a week in the battle became a bit of an issue when the bar stank of BO and farts from a hundred hairy arsed apes doing the same thing.

    Oh btw, I found out yesterday that ‘going on a bender’ referred to the old sterling silver sixpence, which could be bent with your fingers and was enough for an all day session.

    • I’ve noticed a recent trend here in the Khan Empire of Londonstabistan.
      If a pub has a garden out the back or tables out the front they are divided into smoking and non smoking. So you could be out in a garden and you have to wait for some cunt to fuck off so you can grab the smoking table. Now I don’t know if this is some kind of local by law or pubs are doing it voluntarily. However I suspect it won’t be long before some health Nazi gets it banned from within 100 yards of a pub and eventually in public altogether.
      All for our own good of course!

      • Great point, Mis.

        Many years ago (25+), I had a local where a bunch of us used to drink. Landlord knew me by name and was pulling my pint before I even got to the bar. It was a nice feeling, I admit.

        Ruined when I got barred though, by the same landlord. Cunt.

        There was this fruit machine there which had a particular feature. 10 squares numbered 1 to 10 which would quickly light up in turn 1, 2, 3 etc. until square 10 lit up, then they’d all turn off and start again. The trick was to hit a button when the 10 square was lit. For some reason, I just had the knack of nailing this feature every time. Whenever friends would play the fruity and this feature came up, I’d be called upon. Jackpot! Sometimes even friends of friends would ask me to step in and get the jackpot for them.

        Well, the landlord – let’s call him Alan because that’s what the cunt’s name was – noticed how I was able to get the jackpot time after time. First I was barred from playing that fruity myself (there was another fruit machine that I was “allowed” to play). However, I continued to help others get their jackpots, so cunt Alan barred me altogether.

        Miserable, money grabbing, fat, ugly old troll. He’s dead now. Good.

      • My inate misery let me really enjoy that diatribe IY.
        Rural pubs are OK if you’re passing or on holiday but on any regular basis it’s Royston fucking Vasey all over again.
        My method is walk in, most heads turn as in The Slaughtered Lamb (American werewolf in London), ignore yokels,buy up to 4 pints at once, turn my back on said yokels,walk over to remotest corner and make a point of studiously ignoring the hayseed contingent.
        Winds them up a treat and I’m a big lad, so, fuck ’em.
        Your memories will be hard pressed to fulfil going by the state of play now,one of my locals even had a “charcuterie” , you fucking what? Mind you,the landlord is a massive poseur with a frog 🐸 😳 surname so hardly surprising that he’s leaving next month.
        What a cunt.

      • I remember a night just after the smoking ban came in, some tart complaining that the garden smelt of fag smoke. Fuck off indoors you cunt came the considered reply. She burst into tears . Boyfriend/beard didn’t fancy taking on a couple of pissed 40 somethings.

    • Smoking in pubs kept the middle class families out,
      As did the fact no food on offer bar peanuts and pork scratchings.

      “Is there a vegan option?’

      Pickled onion .

      There’s nothing better than walking in a pub alone and everyone knows you,
      That’s why it’s so important to old blokes.

      Wives dead, kids don’t visit,
      But they step over the threshold

      “Usual George?”
      “Hey up George!”
      “Alright George?”
      “Whereve you been George you old bugger?”

      He’s home.
      He’s accepted,
      He belongs,
      He’s equal,
      He’s respected.

      • Well said Miserable. It’s about locality, community, even history. Remember the “Cheers” song………”I wanna go where everybody knows my name”? The middle class p*nces, the politicians and the money men will never understand that.
        Just like they can’t understand why we would prefer to stand on a football terrace, packed together swaying all over the shop rather than sitting on some poxy, overpriced plastic seat.

        THEY JUST DON’T FUCKING GET IT !!

  26. It’s so long since I went out for a drink, I have no idea what a pint costs these days. The pubs I used to go in have been turned into houses and the blokes I used to drink with are dead. Ah well, life goes on. For some.

  27. The majority of pubs that are still open are crap.

    The landlords or landladies are bone idol, and want to shut at what time suits them.

    Even though licensing laws are more relaxed now, some pubs of old would close when the punters had drunk as much as they could. Particularly out in the sticks.

    Now I go to the pub, and at 11 o clock the landlady starts getting irritable, despite plenty of people spending money.

    Any pub that rang a bell, I went in once and never again.

    Running a pub properly is hard fucking graft.

    Drink driving purges have put pay to most pubs out in the countryside. If they don’t serve food their days are numbered or they have already closed.

    Drinking has become increasingly expensive.
    It used to be cheap to get hammered. Now I imagine you’d need the best part of fifty quid.

    I miss the days when you could sink a gallon of beer, get in a clapped out Rover P4 and drive home sensibly, without looking for PC plod nervously though your rear view mirror.

    Now it’s like running the gauntlet. Constantly checking your mirrors, and bricking it if some motor catches you up from behind.

    No wonder folks can’t be bothered to go out nowadays.

    • I used to go in the country pubs, no TV, jukebox, pool etc. but the driving was risky as fuck. Then some willing entrepreneur decided to ferry people pub to pub for a few quid, the pick-up times on the wall in each pub.
      I don’t imagine it’s still in operation but a great idea.

    • And kids in pubs.

      No. Fuck off. Annoying little bastards.

      I had to sit outside with a bag of Smiths crisps and a lemonade.

      And no wimminz were aloud in the bar either.

      The lounge was reserved for couples, and it was slightly dearer to drink in ‘that side’ of the pub.

      I can’t remember when wimminz started creeping into the bar. It was an unwritten rule that they didn’t enter.

      I’m sure this was the case until the late 60’s or even early 70’s?

      • Evening Dick👍

        You still get out for a pint?

        I went to the ‘Olde trip to Jerusalem ‘ in Nottingham,
        Near Nottingham Castle.

        I was told that it was the oldest pub in England.
        I was very excited!!

        Captured my imagination,
        Crusaders having a pint wondering if they’ll ever taste English ale again,
        Will they die in the dust of the Holy Land….

        Then read it’s not the fuckin oldest😡
        Some place in stIves!!

        The daft cunts should get their facts right.

        I’ve also seen a claim for a pub in at Alban’s!!

        So fuck knows

      • Evening Mis.

        Yes, I still nip out every other night.

        I’ve been to ‘The Trip’ quite a few times.

        It’s sort of set in a cliff below the castle.

        Think it has been there since the 1100’s.

        There has always been a dispute as to whether it is, or isn’t, England’s oldest pub.

        It’s a bit pokey inside, and as black as the ace of spades. Anyone got two bob for the leccy meter?
        A bit crooked too….I don’t think they had a spirit level?

        Hardy and Hanson’s, (Kimberley Ales), used to do a brew named after the pub. It was called “Ye Olde Trip Ale”. It was the only decent thing they ever brewed.

        If you had walked Northeast 2 miles you would could have had a trip to “Ye Olde Stabbyland”. It’s full of côöns and other nasty types. Avoid at all costs.

  28. they have been gone for sometime now, agree the smoking ban first, plus the drug taking increased and the last financial meltdown of 2008 onwards finished a lot off.
    Bar a few spots mostly all that your left with nowadays is a smashed, drug fuelled, Friday and Saturday night binge of boredom in the city town centres.

  29. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about pubs anymore. Its too expensive (the average price of a pint here in Brighton is £5.20) and all you get in pubs these days is a load of fucking arseholes who just want to dig you up and have a fight or ponce off you. I haven’t been to a pub for years now because the overwhelming majority of them have their little cliques, and if you’re not in one of those cliques you’re made to feel very unwelcome. The regulars will nudge you out of their way at the bar, the staff will serve everyone else before you, and then once you’ve got a drink and sat down, if you go to the toilet you’ll come back to find one of the regulars sitting in your seat. Forgive me but I’m not one for taking verbal abuse from pissed-up regulars while the staff just stand there and watch. And before you ask, when I actually punched one of the aforementioned regulars who antagonised me, I was the one who got barred. Fuck pubs, fuck pubstaff and fuck the antisocial cunts who drink in them!!!

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