Something for the pique trend

by sticky

Well, tonight lockdown is over for those who have been itching to get down the pubĀ  for a skinful, and take their domesticated violence back out onto the streets.

For those not of a violent disposition, there will be the opportunity to meet up with their mates, and catch up with some male bonding, arms over each other’s shoulders, slobbering “I’ve mished you, mate, you’re my besht mate, you are.”

So watch out for the massive spike in a few weeks’ time.

After all, it’s hard to ‘social distance’ when you’re kicking somebody’s head in.

14 Comments to “Something for the pique trend”

  1. He beat the crowds on Friday

    You see – alcohol promotes violence.


  2. I was talking to the landlord of a local Saddleworth pub last week. They’ve been doing takeaway food through lockdown and we called in there for some lunch while on a walk with friends.

    He, like me, is convinced that the centre of Shaw-sur-mer will be one big brawl tonight as all the local knuckledraggers head for the pubs only to find big hairy bouncers on the door, limiting numbers.

    Of course, those intent on making up the numbers in one pub will not wish to be told to make up the numbers elsewhere and will doubtless resort to the only form of logical argument known to them.

    I’m staying well out of it. I’m not a fucking alcoholic and can quite happily survive without pubs for a while yet.


  3. Me too. I certainly wouldn’t go in any of the pubs around here, nowadays. We might go in one on holiday, to have a meal, but other than that my alcohol intake is a bottle of beer to accompany a ruby every couple of weeks.

    Shaw-sur-mer ? Never heard that one.


    • It’s a picturesque fishing village on the cote-d’Owdham.


      • Is that where people go to catch picturesque fish ?


      • Oh, I know now – it’s just up the coast from the Rochdale Reefs.

        “As you wonder down the high street . . . ”

        No doubt, wondering what the fuck you’re doing there.


        • Holy crap, that was a hysterical article! But what is it with British white trash and track suits, anyway? Is it like the football jerseys in ‘Murica, where testosterone memories transform hairy beer guts into sports heroes after three Miller Lites?

          Something that keeps popping up on any British video/show I find is how houses and commercial buildings are just sort of jumbled together. In the states, it’s quite rare to look out your front window and see a pub or a gas station glaring back at you with toxic red neon eyes. Neighborhoods are sequestered areas of lawn and not-quite-lawn and commercial areas commandeer entire strips, but then end. If you live next to a gas station, you either own it or you are in a shit-poor state.

          But maybe that’s the point of Shaw.


        • Ah. The Duke of York and Coolers are both now long gone – fortunately.

          The article is correct on one point; the issue of Shaw Gawbies (note the spelling) being reluctant to travel. The same is true of the whole bloody area. I remember when I first moved here, and was working just ovver th’ill in Rochdale – no more than 2 miles from my house – and I introduced myself to an elderly customer.

          ‘Where’st from lad?’ he enquired gruffly

          ‘Well, I’m from Cheshire, but I’ve just moved to Shaw’

          ‘Ah’ve nivver bin there. Wassit lahk?

          ‘Well, it’s a big county, but it was nice where I lived – place called Grappenhall, near Warrington.’

          ‘No lad, ah means Shaw.’

          Every bugger in Shaw knows every bugger else, nobody moves away, everybody who was at primary school together are still mates and meet up in the same pubs.

          It’s like a small country village that isn’t small, a village or in the country.


  4. Knew a bloake from there, once, he was called George Bernard


  5. Look: track suit top and everything….


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