I've been down the pub this afternoon relaxing having a chat and a game of darts, of course I drank too much, as did Dave and most of the gang who were there, due to the crop combining and ploughing there was a lot less than usual in the back bar!
It started out as a sensible conversation about the price of oil, the bad weather we're having to endure, someone's holiday mishap, Les's new car, then as the beer started to work its magic, the conversation changed slightly, ever so slightly, but change it did, to which (Modern) dictator has the best set of teeth! We changed it to "modern dictator" as we had to limit it for Les, after his third double whiskey and pint to match was in no fit state to debate his point about "Attila the Hun" as I pointed out, there are no reliable dental records or reliable pictures for the time when "Attila the Hun was being your actual dictator. Unlike Saddam Hussein (which I chose, which has a great set of dentures) Dave chose Adolf Hitler and Mike the landlord who chose Joe Stalin!
This conversation lasted for around three hours, with a couple of side contests, "who could down a pint and eat a pickled egg" this might sound easy but the egg is placed in the bottom of the pint glass, the pint is poured and you have to drink and eat all at the same time, the "find the biggest spider in the toilet's" contest (which I won! For the first ever time, and I'm still really sorry to the woman in the women's toilet's which I frightened) and last but not least "guess the tourist who's wearing the wig" which Dave won, but Mike contested due to the fact that Dave looked through the window first! But in true Olympic style, the title was stripped from Dave and given to Mike, who later failed a drugs test (Ozzie lager) and the title was returned back to Dave! Mike got the hump over this and threatened to close the bar till Ally came down stairs and told him to "grow up" and the rest of us to "go home" and on that note we leave!
The rain is still doing its level best to shrink everything as we walk down the main street; we stop off at the shop for Les to buy a packet of ciggy's (He doesn't smoke, never has). I notice it's Mrs. Phelps behind the counter and I say to Dave "Buy a magazine, off the top shelf!" and nudge him with my elbow, I know it's stupid and very lower third but sometimes it has to be done, he responds with a look that I can only say, the last time I seen it was at primary school, "Nooooo I ain't doing that" he says and I start to snigger.
Les's legs have given out at the counter he's over on the floor with a hand stuck in his pocket (he's still trying to pull out the money to pay for the ciggy's) we get him to his feet and drag him out of the shop. Dave still thinks that Mrs. Phelps was a bit harsh! "Well she's got to keep up appearances with all those tourists about" says Les and I ask him if he can use his legs now "NO I Can't" comes the reply!
We enter my house by the back door and sit Les in a chair (he promptly slides out on to the floor) "safest place for him" Dave says, then I turn round and Dave has slid off his chair and is crawling towards the dog's (GOD BLESS'UM) bed and then on it and then asleep, I sit down in the chair looking at my mates! Then I wake up! Head throbbing and Dave making a cup of tea 3 hours later! Enough said! The perils of drinking with your mates.