fruit players
Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 9:56 pm
the other day i was visiting a cousin who has a certain amount of community service to do for setting fire to public parks and just can't keep her nose clean. anyway, it was in a reasonably pleasant part of London, but one that is a pig to get to if you are not driving. so i took an afternoon off and figured i'd play a few SWPs while she was smashing up rocks and sewing mailbags.
the bit near where women and woofters go on about tennis had two pubs. the wetherspoons of which didn't even have an open-joke, so i walked up past the wombles to the town centre where i figured i'd buy some food, drink slowly and hopefully win a few shekels (and yes, QM, i do know that the correct plural is shekalim).
the first place i found was fine, very expensive and full of people who wear suits but don't have jobs. while i was merrily jizzing over the pans, a scruffy, dwarfish, oriental fella walked in, bold as brass and started playing a fruit. he didn't buy a drink and even took a phone call where he moaned (loudly) to another AWP player that he "couldn't make a fakkin bean today, for fakksake". his friend was called duncan.
so i didn't much like this. i finished up my plate of caviare and foie gras to go somewhere away from this person who doesn't know how to use a pub properly.
well, there was a youngs boozer across the way and it seemed like a good way to kill an hour or so, but sure enough the yobbo came in there too, didn't order a drink and played on his game. it wasn't right next to the SWP but, the pub was that empty at 16.00, i could still hear his semi-literate squawk, so the publican, who was right next to him was well aware. after a while he dropped a fair few quid (100 at a guess of 20x5). meanwhile, the SWP mysteriously crashed as soon as he had collected from his AWP.
so he jingled away, i was tempted to follow him and see how many other places he'd go to, take the piss and not even buy a drink, but i had to post bail for my cousin.
the bit near where women and woofters go on about tennis had two pubs. the wetherspoons of which didn't even have an open-joke, so i walked up past the wombles to the town centre where i figured i'd buy some food, drink slowly and hopefully win a few shekels (and yes, QM, i do know that the correct plural is shekalim).
the first place i found was fine, very expensive and full of people who wear suits but don't have jobs. while i was merrily jizzing over the pans, a scruffy, dwarfish, oriental fella walked in, bold as brass and started playing a fruit. he didn't buy a drink and even took a phone call where he moaned (loudly) to another AWP player that he "couldn't make a fakkin bean today, for fakksake". his friend was called duncan.
so i didn't much like this. i finished up my plate of caviare and foie gras to go somewhere away from this person who doesn't know how to use a pub properly.
well, there was a youngs boozer across the way and it seemed like a good way to kill an hour or so, but sure enough the yobbo came in there too, didn't order a drink and played on his game. it wasn't right next to the SWP but, the pub was that empty at 16.00, i could still hear his semi-literate squawk, so the publican, who was right next to him was well aware. after a while he dropped a fair few quid (100 at a guess of 20x5). meanwhile, the SWP mysteriously crashed as soon as he had collected from his AWP.
so he jingled away, i was tempted to follow him and see how many other places he'd go to, take the piss and not even buy a drink, but i had to post bail for my cousin.
