Good Old Fashioned

THE GOOD OLD FASHIONED

I can explain everything, Officer.

The barman said, “Have you tried this new Slovakian lager?” He held up a tall brown bottle with some foreign words on the label,
“we sell a lot of it to young people nowadays, it’s really neat.”

I slumped on my stool and draped my elbows over the bar.

“Neat?” I said, “Gin is neat: my girl’s butt is neat,
so how come this drink can be neat?”

He looked down at me. My hair wasn’t neat nor my three day old beard, so he made his own judgement.

“I s’pose you’re not interested then?”

“You could be right. Give me a pint of Mild and Bitter.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s real beer,” I said, “That’s what gets you pissed in a good old fashioned way, not burping bubbles nor slurping iced mush.”

He looked round for another customer to serve and get away from me, but the bar was deserted.

“Look, I ‘ve got my job to do and that is to sell this stuff or get the sack -so leave off or shove off.”

“Wow!” I said, “we’re all drinkers here, just because you stand behind a bar, you’ve no call to be cheeky with me.”

“Just shove off,” he said, “find your mildewed bitter someplace else.”


So I walked majestically out into the street, trying not to bump into the furniture as I went. Then I began to think. I’d had a few pints of Best already, down the road in the Pickled Ferret, so I decided to go back and reflect on the sad state of things in this modern world.

As I pushed into the public at the Ferret, there was Bill Forbes sitting at a table with a large glass in front of him. Now, Bill is a reflective bloke and takes a while to get worked up, but when he does, he’s a diamond.

That’s why he’s been barred from most of the pubs in the city. So I told him about the barman and the state of modern society which was neat and lager-ey and unfit for man’s consumption.

“Give us a pint to mull it over,” he said, “and I’ll give you an honest answer.”

Well, we took our time. After another three pints we felt able to come to a decision.

“And that, Officer, is why we had to return to the bar and show that young sprig what good old fashioned beer can do. We’d never have smashed that mirror or tapped his head on the bar if he’d only seen sense.”