Congratulations to the owners of the Billy Wright pub, opening tonight. I'm informed it's named after the truly great footballer, not the psychopathic Ulster loyalist terrorist, though he too was born in this Midlands English town.
You may detect a certain antipathy towards this drinking establishment. You'd be right. I live opposite it. It is next door to two more vertical drinking establishments and round the corner from several more. Each night, my flat overlooks vomiting, fighting, breakups, tiffs and all the other manifestations of alcohol allergy. Despite being a moderate drinker myself, being woken up at 4.30 a.m. by drunk and aggressive 'lads' as I believe they're technically known, is enough to make me take the pledge and join the Pioneers.
This particular licensed premise looks very unpromising. It's named after a footballer and the beautiful game seems to be the decorative theme. It has a hard-wearing carpet and very few seats, and a very limited range of tasteless beverages, which suggests to me that it's appealing to the heavy-drinking footy-supporting contingency: the intention is to poor as much booze down their necks as economically and physically possible, with little regard for taste, decency or the local community.
So I shall have to either continue sleeping with earplugs… or join the drinkers.
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