Outside hours

From its heading I’m guessing most of you will be expecting a write up
on all the great outdoors activities in and around London, but
unfortunately there isn’t any and its not. Well actually I’m sure there
is some great outdoors action, but its winter now and there is f%#k all
daylight anyway, so let us not forget, and focus on what this article
is all about.

I live and work in a pub in the west end, the part of London where
tourists, piss heads, homosexuals, drug dealers, businessmen and street
scum all come together as one and keep me awake at night. Nah I love it
really, the atmosphere, the crowds, the girls, the fights, it’s all
action to me and working and living in a pub in this area provides
plenty of it.

When people visit London the one thing they don’t understand is how the
pubs all shut really early. When the rest of Europe are just heading
out to get hard out on the piss, England’s pubs are kicking everyone
out. Maybe if it joins the EU properly then this may change. Let’s hope
not for my sake.

The reason pubs shut earlier in England is not because of old
traditions or licensing laws, or even to stop the streets from becoming
even bigger boxing rings later in the night. They shut early so that
the employees that work and often live in the pubs can keep up their
steady drinking habit and late night debaucheries. I have lived in a
few different ones around London and well these are stories direct from
the love stained pages of the Van Holden files.

West End Premier League – start of a new season

Opening week of what looked like a long league session in the cold
crowded streets of London’s west end, did not produce any goals, but
that was okay because I was still hitting sixes back in St Albans once
a week with the Irish nurse. She didn’t know it yet but next away game
she was going to be suiting up in uniform for my playing pleasure.
Before this was to happen, six American cheerleaders decided that our
little batting strip of a pub was their favourite place to drink in
London. Being the odds on favourite first goals scorer with William
Hill and Ladbrokes, I thought I should play myself up front as the lone
striker right from the kick off. A couple of good passes across the bar
turned into two of them permanently staying in the mixer. Cheerleader
number one was hot to trot at Cheltenham but number two was ginger so
the daily double didn’t look like a good option. This midweek fixture
had been a good run out on the pitch to prepare a good team for
Saturday’s game when they said they would return.

The day before the big match, the pub had some new arrivals. Two eager
little Swedish teenage girls arrived on the doorstep ready to live
upstairs in the pub hostel. The top floor accommodation can be
described no better than a fire trap thats roof is falling in. Tiny
rooms with shared toilets and showers that lack lights and sanitation,
along with a kitchen that is used more by mice than people. It looked
as though years and maybe even decades of staff employees, probably
dirty Australians had left there toll on the place. The company that
owns a lot of these pubs all over England does not care for rooftops
falling in on staff members, let alone worry the mice that run the main
kitchen at night time. If only the customers knew. The only real good
thing was a huge roof top which provided romantic porn like views and a
great place to party.

Saturday night came and my groundwork during the week paid off because
American No. 1 asked for my number as they were heading off to Tiger
Tiger an infamous club that the legendary ‘Pantsman’ used to frequent.
I would not finish until 1.30am, so she said she would text to confirm
their whereabouts. Me and the Polish idiot had the usual knock off pint
after work when the two Swedes rocked up. They had been out on their
first night in the big city. We sat around, had a few more drinks and
got to know them a little better when I got the call up. She was pissed
and had lost her friends, so she said. I knew that it was just that she
was a slut and wanted a
piece of pistol pie, and I was more than prepared to warm her up a
slice. We met on Haymarket street, where her and the ginger scrapper
were waiting with two guys. They were hating it when I signalled to the
referee to substitute No.1 off the pitch and onto the bench back at my
place. I snuck her in and upstairs past the others at the bar, because
obviously I did not want the Swedish girls knowing my whorish ways.

American girls are always a sure bet, I have come across them a number
of times on my European tour. Unlike their neighbouring Canadians who
always seem to have an easily broken down defence but an awesome goalie
that doesn’t let anything through at all. Keeping clean sheets more
often than not! I learnt this a while ago and I only go for seppo’s and
this one came up to my room, delivering a great blow, heading into the
goal and then going for a victory run all the way back downstairs to
find her friend. A true sporting effort from the young American, and it
helped me to a one win, one draw record after the first two games of
the new season.