Rangy Manatee

Hello team. Just been to the dentist, who despite being a nice man has a rather tedious habit of making my mouth feel swollen and numb. There's one career I'm really not interested in. I would clearly enjoy it too much.

So, it's been a few days since my last post and what have I achieved? Well, in terms of job success, not much. My mouth hurts more than last time. But, The Cumberland Arms has provided much excitement this weekend, it must be announced. Saturday night saw me standing behind the upstairs bar staring in bemused disbelief as a drunk man took down his trousers and pants and wafted himself around to his friends who were rapping on stage. They seemed a little bemused. I was bemused. Everyone looked bemused, and thankfully for me, the room cleared itself rather quickly. The bloke continued to pull down his trousers randomly to various bemused people who would look bemusedly up at me (safely behind the bar) and look for some kind of sympathetic bemused look. None was forthcoming; just a sighing, pitying shrug.

The evening continued to improve after everyone was asked to leave after last orders. Many of our punters, having left the pub were refusing to leave the beer garden area and our man in charge threatened to call the police if they didn't go in the next ten minutes. Of course, being a rather shrewd man, he actually did call the police. Five minutes later I looked out of the window to see just four people remaining: nob-out man standing on a bench with his nob (predictably) out, and three of his friends not even interested by his nob anymore, just admiring our new patio. Five minutes down the line and I took another peek out of the window to find a policeman standing by someone taking a piss. Was it the man becoming infamous for spreading bemused looks across the faces of all he flashed? Nope, it was his mate. His poor friend who had put up with 'nob-out' antics all night was in the process of getting his details taken down by the polis for, of all things, having his nob out.

Ah, it was beautiful.

Oh and on sunday night, as I was tidying the upstairs bar, a French-sounding girl wandered upstairs. She was clearly very drunk and in a roundabout way informed me that she was missing her jacket. I politely informed her that we had no jackets up here, but maybe she might like to head downstairs and ask there. She said "ok, thankyou, goodnight" and then as some kind of parting blow she said in the same sweet voice, "hey, fuck off". I said, "what"? And just as she repeated her ten-letter insult, I heard my landlady come up the stairs. Now you do not want to be on the wrong side of her. The door was abruptly closed and I went back to what I was doing. Just twenty seconds later, as a display of my landlady's immense powers of persuasion, the door swung open and the girl said "Hey Danny, sorry". I accepted her apology, she went downstairs, promptly found her coat and burst into tears.

So that was fun. My mouth hurts, I'm going to go home.