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| Stock photo of pub |
Having previously visited the
dreary little riverside conurbation of Halliton, I was surprised to learn that
this rather mundane village was graced by not just one, but two public houses.
Having been less than impressed
with one of the local hostelries, I thought I would find out if the plebeian
hamlet of Halliton could redeem itself by having an alternative venue that
could offer a standard of public hospitality that would satisfy a noted epicurean
such as myself.
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| Stock photo of pub bar... |
The Traveller’s Rest itself is
situated on the end of a row of rather common, working-class
terraced houses that are situated right on what passes for Halliton’s main
road. Normally I would not wish to be associated with such
déclassé surroundings, of course. I also noted with some
displeasure that the pub was a “tied house” belonging to the Nepo Scheame chain.
As is well-known, this former Kentish brewery now specialises in property
development and is engaged in a programme of shutting down and selling off even
their most profitable pubs in order to satisfy the needs of their venture capitalist
shareholders – as is right and proper, of course.
I am no fan of Nepo Scheme’s
beer either, but this did not stop me walking up to the bar and ordering a pint
of their standard poison, Badenoch’s Gaslighter. As usual, I explained to the
relentlessly cheerful and pretty barmaid that I was the MORON’s pub reviewer
and Kent’s leading bon vivant, and
that a few free pints would go a long way to ensuring a favourable write-up.
Despite this, the ugly harridan merely laughed and pointed to one of the many
jokey signs behind that bar, specifically the one that said “Please Do Not Ask
For Credit As A Punch In The Face Often Offends”. This rejection prompted much
laughter from the educationally sub-normal denizens that obviously passed for
clientele in the establishment and so, pint in hand, I left the bar to sit at a
table.
Now that it was established that
I had to pay for it, the beer turned out to be just as stale, bitter and
unpalatable as I remembered it, but then at only £4.50 a pint it was at least as
cheap as it was nasty. Nevertheless, after six pints, both pub and beer began
to grow on me. Indeed, the pub furniture and carpets were spotlessly clean,
even if it all looked like something from the 1980’s set of the Rover’s Return.
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| Stock photo of pints of beer |
Returning to the bar for another
pint I began to feel decidedly peckish, so I asked to see the pub’s menu. Once
again, the barmaid refused my not unreasonable request with the reply of
“Sorry, we don’t serve food here, love”, the flimsiest of excuses if ever I
heard one. This rejection prompted yet more amusement from the Neanderthals at the
bar, with one of them cheerily suggesting that “if I wanted to read, I should
go to a library”, to much ribald laughter from his ape-like companions.
Looking around at the shorts and t-shirt wearing brigade of burly “locals”, I thought I would therefore engage
them with some jolly banter of my own.
“So would any of you miserable,
unemployable cretins actually know where the local library is?” I ventured with
a cheerful grin, before draining my pint.
“It’s just down the road, next
door to the office of my quantity surveying practice,” replied one of them. “I’ve
only just returned their copy of Plato’s Republic,
so if you run, you might be able to borrow it yourself so that you can learn a
bit about the art of public discourse…”
I decided that these braying
idiots were not worthy of my witty repartee and so, with another pint and a
packet of crisps in hand, I returned to my table. Sitting opposite me, a surly
gentleman was ignoring his numbskull compatriots, instead gazing intently at
the Times crossword. After finishing
my pint, I returned to the bar for another, looking over the crossword
aficionado’s shoulder as I did so.
“Eight Across, ‘Criminal Going Down Is Rather Smug’, thirteen
letters. I think you’ll find that’s ‘Condescending’”,
I triumphantly announced to him as I returned to my table, pint in hand.
“Just like you, arsehole,” said
the ungrateful oaf, slamming his paper down on the table and walking away.
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| Stock photo of pub toilets... |
It was clear that this miserable
hostelry was far from hospitable and so after another pint or three, I decided to
“review the facilities”. These were clean and fresh, at least until I unfortunately
suffered a “Biological Disorder” as I was relieving myself. This was
undoubtedly due to the foul nature of the beer I had consumed, which merely
confirmed my low opinion of Nepo Scheame pubs and their horrid ales in general. Undeterred,
I removed my soiled trousers and underwear and returned to the bar.
“Excuse me, you couldn’t gave
these a bit of rinse for me, could you?” I inquired of the barmaid, waving my
admittedly somewhat odious accoutrements in order to attract her attention.
Yet once again, my perfectly
reasonable request met with a firm and this time, angry refusal. Not only that,
but I was then bundled out into the car park by several of the local gorillas and
told to “sling my hook”, along with various other epithets that I could not possibly
repeat here.
Once more regretting ever going
into a Nepo Scheame pub, I went into the local shop at the end of the main road
to get something to eat. Unfortunately, I was seated behind the wheel of my
Audi at the time.
And as if just to emphasise the
backward, hostile nature of Halliton as a whole, all the ungrateful shopkeeper
could say was “not you again…”
So in summary, my considered
opinion of the Traveller’s Rest at Halliton is as follows…
Decor: *** Clean,
but rather old-fashioned.
Food: * Food was not
served so a packet of expensive crisps (£1.50!!!) had to do.
Drink: * Utterly awful, causing
me to suffer a violent allergic reaction after a mere ten pints.
Price: * The surly
ungrateful barmaid expected me to pay for my drinks despite my offer of a favourable
write-up. This is completely unacceptable to a top-class reviewer such as me.
Staff: * Lazy and unhelpful. Refused to clean my slightly soiled trousers
even though that was a result of their awful beer.
Toilets: * Disgusting. Looked
like a ghastly drunk had soiled himself on the floor.
Comments:
Please note that we do not moderate
comments. However, we may edit or delete them, or manipulate the voting on them
in order to reflect our editorial policy.
Grey Mondeo Man wrote:
Yet more completely pointless drivel from U.I. Doesn’t like
Nepo Scheame beer, so he goes to a Nepo Scheame pub, drinks a gallon of Nepo
Scheame beer, gets rat-arsed, humiliates himself and then blames the pub as
usual. How on earth does this make for a review of (this comment has been edited for brevity. Ed.)
👎-3000
Uncover Imbiber replied:
As you can see from both the
reaction to your intemperate comment and the favourable and completely
independent responses from my admirers below, your opinion is very much in the
minority. If do not like my output, please feel free to pass it by!
👍+3000
Art. E. Fishall wrote:
I think these
reviews are excellent and very funny.
👍+400
Clint Elligence
wrote:
I think these
reviews are excellent and very funny.
👍+400
A Staffer wrote:
I think these reviews are excellent and very funny.
👍+400
Mrs U.I. wrote:
U barsted u left me at home but u shit yor pants serves u right har har yor
my bes mate u are I luv you bruv hic
👍+187
