It’s a quarter to three, and there’s no one in the place ‘cept you and me mate.
Well, let me tell you son. I have seen it all and I have heard it all. I have worked the roughest pubs in South End where drunken sailors on leave get their feathers rustled by the Old Firm boys and you were lucky if you got paid at the end of the night instead of tossed in the black waters of the bloody Thames with a pool cue stickin’ out of your arse. I have run the poshest cocktail bars and the hottest night clubs in Soho where sharks suffering from cocaine nosebleed mingle with upscale tarts and downsized dicks.
I have heard every bleedin’ pick up line there is and I have seen every foul act of human behaviour you could imagine. On a slow night I observe you. You and your mates... When you talk to me I listen with one ear and stick a gun in the other. On busy nights I get your lady’s phone number when you go to the little boy’s room and I spit boggers in your bloody spritzer when you tip me in coppers. What’s the difference between a dog and a bartender? We’re both a man’s best friend but I’m not one bit loyal and not at all REALLY your friend matey. You pay me to be… You stupid fucking wanka’.
But I have good nights too. Nights where that one goddess walks into your bar and steals your heart away and you wake up the next morning with little coarse hairs between your teeth. Nights where that self appointed king shit of the neighbourhood decides to spend a fortune on you for making “the best bleedin’ Martini this side of the bleedin’ Atlantic”.
I have so many stories to tell you son. I have heard so much and seen so much it doesn’t seem fair to keep it all for just me. So pull up a chair mate and I will tell you the truths of man when he’s shitfaced on a Saturday night.
Cheers.
