The Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul

Trotter and Fing have just had their first taste of the Bat and Ball in Cuddesdon. They were not unduly impressed.

They walked in and the place smelled of fish, Andi and Shane asured them this was not the norm and secured stools to sit on.

Unfortunately the floor is set at a rakish angle and Trotter and Fing felt like they were at sea, as if on the Titanic, all brahms and list. In the end a complex game of musical chairs ensued with much consternation.

All this was watched by a hideous, homophobic crowd, I pointed out to Fing that a large black moustache, chaps and a leather harness may not be the most suitable apparel for a village pub but he was unrepentant.

Trotter supped his stout, Fing downed his small schooner of sweet sherry and the rest of us finished off our wine before we beat a hasty retreat.

Shane is suffering from the most awful Katherine heartburn.