Ye Old Harrow
Created | Updated Apr 11, 2002
This is a small mystical pub currently located within our own space time continuum and also in Sheffield, England. From the outside it looks like any other run down, under used water hole that most inner cities are familiar with, but, from the inside, it looks like any other run down, under used pub, but has a magical pool table strategically located next to the gents toilets. If you enter the pub and purchase a pint of lager shandy, a Britvic 55 and two packets of salt & vinegar crisps, the wizard behind the bar will conjure up a small white ball and a cube of chalk.
At first, I made the mistake if trying to chalk my drink and eat the ball, but through perseverance, I discovered the true purposes of the proffered objects.
Next to the pool table, there are some old weapons left over from the crusades. By the cunning skill of a master craftsman, the jousting sticks have been moulded and honed into fine instruments for use with the white ball. In order to use the ‘Cues’ as they are known, the thinner end must be covered with a precision layer of chalk. After many months of hitting the white ball with the cue, I now consider myself to be an expert at whacking small white balls around with a 5ft wooden stick. After many a bruised customer and some damaged glasses, the wizard behind the bar decided enough was enough, and explained everything to me. “You’re supposed to hit the coloured balls on the table!” he said. Well, that was it, ‘great!’ I thought. Now I hit the coloured balls with the stick instead.
PS. If you are ever unlucky enough to visit Sheffield, please visit this pub for a strange insight into mediaeval life. Also, beware the Duck of Death!
At first, I made the mistake if trying to chalk my drink and eat the ball, but through perseverance, I discovered the true purposes of the proffered objects.
Next to the pool table, there are some old weapons left over from the crusades. By the cunning skill of a master craftsman, the jousting sticks have been moulded and honed into fine instruments for use with the white ball. In order to use the ‘Cues’ as they are known, the thinner end must be covered with a precision layer of chalk. After many months of hitting the white ball with the cue, I now consider myself to be an expert at whacking small white balls around with a 5ft wooden stick. After many a bruised customer and some damaged glasses, the wizard behind the bar decided enough was enough, and explained everything to me. “You’re supposed to hit the coloured balls on the table!” he said. Well, that was it, ‘great!’ I thought. Now I hit the coloured balls with the stick instead.
PS. If you are ever unlucky enough to visit Sheffield, please visit this pub for a strange insight into mediaeval life. Also, beware the Duck of Death!
