Life Behind Bars (15 page)

Quite often trainers in Newmarket
or Ascot will send horses to a small course like ours to try them out.  As
you can appreciate, this is enormously costly and often they will share the
costs with a couple of other stables.  Most race-goers know that these
horses are certainly not ‘sure things.’  However, when a trainer
accompanies the horse, together with travelling staff of at least three others
then that horse has a chance.

Towards the end of the flat
season, a Monday meeting was scheduled which was great for business.  The
race-goers all arrived early Sunday and once their charges were attended to,
they went out to play.  These guys could play and one stable in particular
were great favourites of ours.  The head lad (bit of a misnomer, he was
pushing sixty) was a hard drinker and one of the few who never gave out racing
tips but he was great fun and a great tipper.  The staff all loved him and
I think because we didn’t pester him, he felt at ease.

This particular visit, he had
arrived with a bunch of his cronies and they were roaring drunk.  For a
couple of hours they argued and bickered about whose horse was best and whose
would win and so on and so forth.  Just at closing time while waiting for
his taxi, he sidled up to me and whispered, ‘put your shirt on’ ???  
He was so drunk and his thick Irish accent meant I couldn’t make out what he
was saying.

Normally I would let it go but
this was so out the ordinary I was intrigued.  I went off looking for his
understudies and told them what he had said.  They were gobsmacked, as
they were always under strict orders to keep shtum!  The lads don’t get
paid much and one way to boost their income is a few tips here and there. 
This lot were never allowed that luxury.  So when they knew the Boss had
given me info, they knew it was good.  It appeared they had brought a
newbie up from Newmarket called LA Colt.  It had never run before and the
odds were huge.

The next morning at breakfast,
the staff were talking about the race meeting and I told them about the
conversation.  I sent the KP over to the bookies to find out what the odds
were on this horse and when it came back as 100/1, I literally poo-pooed
it.  But the rest were adamant they would have a flutter.

Everyone round the breakfast
table put their stake into the pot and just as I was counting up, a customer
who had borrowed £20 the night before came to pay it back.  Oh well! 
Must be fate; tenner each way for me.  I must say, I am not and never have
been a gambler, but this seemed too good to miss.

Off I went to place the
bet.  The bookie, who was a customer of mine, jokingly commented he was
getting some of his money back.  This horse had no chance; you know all
the usual quips.  The only thing I had been told to do was make sure we
got the ‘first show price.’  This meant nothing to me but I did what I was
told.

It was an extremely busy shift
and to be honest, I don’t think anyone gave the bet another thought till the
race was well over.  While we were enjoying our coffee, we sent the KP
back across to find out if we had won anything.  Thinking even if it came
in fourth we’d get something back.

The fucking beauty had only
won!  Yes, it had won and we scooped nearly six grand between us.  It
was certainly party night that night, and boy did we party!  It felt like
we’d won the lottery.  It was months before anyone from that stable passed
through but you can be assured they were well taken care of. 

As for the head lad, he never got
that drunk again, well not in my pub.  And as for the bookie, well! 
Every time he saw me enter the premises (not often,) he went a deathly shade of
pale.

It could be you . . .

I have known a number of Lottery
winners; some have won real big and others a tidy sum.  One of these
happened on a Saturday night in November.  One of my customers, a nice
chap, called Charles, came in every Saturday night around ten along with his
sister, and her pal who worked for me.  They had been doing this for
years.  All were married but their partners either didn’t drink or had
other hobbies. 

This particular Saturday was
really busy and we got a call from Charles’ wife, asking that he phone
her.  OK, no problem, but she phoned and phoned and phoned.

Now you can’t believe how
irritating this is on any night.  But Saturday is impossible.  You
are screaming down the phone because the bar is so noisy, you seldom get the
right name and you forget the message.  This night she kept phoning every
ten minutes or so and she said something about winning?

Now as it happened, he and the girls,
were later than usual.  Maybe this is what she was on about.  
One of them had won a few quid at the bingo and they’d stayed for another
drink.  I have to say I didn't think it merited all this attention.

  Because there had been so
many calls, we pulled the plug out on the phone and, strange though it seems
having had so many calls, we all forgot to tell him.

 Just before closing I
suddenly remembered.  Christ!  Hoping it wasn’t something serious I
bawled across the bar to him that he had to call his wife.  Bloody
hell!  He had twenty missed calls and he was in a state. Something awful
must have happened.

Well, something had happened but
not something awful.  His wife had checked his lottery ticket and he’d
only won £90K!  Now he wanted to buy everyone in the bar a drink. 
But fuck!  The last bell had gone . . . it was too late. 

I had missed my chance to help
him celebrate but hey ho.  Although I didn’t get any of his winnings that
night, I got more than my share over the next few weeks!

Customers Wanted

On taking over Tweedy’s way back
in the very early 90’s I wanted to let people know we had arrived, and to
attract not only more, but a different class of customer.  Not the usual
‘Under New Management’ banner for me.  This, in my opinion, just attracted
the idiots that the previous owners had barred.  We had to do something
different!  But what?

Tweedy’s was a fairly run down
pub with fairly run down customers.  It was full of ne’er-do-wells who
were mostly barred from all the other watering holes in town.  It was unaffectionately
known as ‘Cardboard City’ and on our first morning I was aghast at the ragbag
of people looking back at me over the bar.

Although this was my home town, I
had been away for a long time and wasn’t really known.  I, on the other
hand, knew everyone.  Well, here goes I thought.  I smiled broadly
and offered them all a complimentary drink.  By the looks on their faces,
they thought their birthdays and Christmases had come at once.  Each one
of them was calculating what they could take this mug for!

 I politely asked if they
had enjoyed my hospitality while removing all the glasses from the bar. 
It was obvious that most thought a refill was on its way!  But no!  I
informed them that I hoped they had enjoyed their drinks because it would be
their last on these premises while I was in residence.  There and then I
barred twenty seven people, virtually the whole customer base.  Oh my God
. . . had I thrown the baby out with the bathwater?

For the first few weeks we could
count the customers on one hand.  Had I gone too far?  Whatever. 
It was too late now!

Time for action, what was I going
to do?  We were losing money hand over fist and I had to come up with
something!  I drew up a list of all the qualities we would want in the
‘perfect customer” but how to get to them, or attract them, was the
problem.  How did other businesses get their customers?  That was
when I came up with the novel idea of advertising for customers.

Now, our local paper was
unwilling at first to run such a unique offer.  It was not, in their
opinion, a bona fide position.  But with a bit of cajoling and some moral
blackmail, they eventually succumbed.

The advertisement appeared the
following Friday in the Situations Vacant section and had a very mixed
reception.  I had numerous daft beggars actually ring for an
interview!  Had a couple of people who took real exception to it and
accused me of making a mockery of the unemployment situation.  But the
majority thought it was funny and came along to see us.  That was not the
end of it!

The following week we were
besieged by the national newspapers who portrayed me as a real idiot who had
bought this bar, found we had no customers and had resorted to desperate measures! 
I appeared on Scotland Today, again, as some poor fool who had sold a pub in
the poorest area of Scotland to come to an even poorer one.

People were pouring in.  I
could not have bought this amount of publicity.  It was fantastic, and
quite frankly they could make me out to be the biggest fool in Christendom as
long as we achieved the desired effect.

Because of its success and the
huge increase in custom, we carried out a major refurbishment and on reopening,
had 500 tee shirts printed with the slogan . . .

Tweedy
Customer,

I
got the Job.

Not bad for a fool!

CUSTOMERS WANTED

Due to the recent
change of ownership and the downturn in the economic climate we will be
interviewing for new customers at Tweedy’s Bar on Monday 26
^th
July.

To qualify for the
position, the following criteria must be met:

Must be minimum 18
years old

Sound financial
status

Available between 11am - 11pm weekdays and

11am - 1am weekends

Pleasant
disposition.

No experience
required – training will be given

Apply in Person to
the above address. 

Patrons previously
barred need not apply.

DRINKING
VOCABULARY CHALLENGE

Things that are difficult to say when you’re drunk . . .

Innovative

Preliminary

Proliferation

Cinnamon

Things that are VERY difficult to say when you’re drunk . . .

Specificity

British Constitution

Passive-aggressive
disorder

Transubstantiate

Things that are ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE to say when you’re drunk . . .

Thanks,
but I don’t want to sleep with you.

Nope,
no more booze for me.

Sorry,
but you’re not really my type.

No
kebab for me, thank you.

Good
evening officer, isn’t it lovely out tonight?

I’m
not interested in fighting you.

Oh,
I just couldn’t - no one wants to hear me sing.

Thanks
but no I won’t make any attempt to dance, I have no co-ordination. I’d hate to
look like a fool.

Where
is the nearest toilet? I refuse to vomit in the street.

I
must be going home now as I have work in the morning

PUB QUIZ ANSWERS

Food
& Drink

1. Choux

2. Goulash

3. Almond

4. Spain

5. Pastry

6. Beetroot

7. Cork

8. Fish

Geography

1. Austria

2. Malta

3. Florence

4. Black Sea

5. Thessalonika

6. Liege

7. Switzerland

8. Germany

Music

1. Simon Le Bon

2. Beach Boys

3. Wales

4. Tony Christie

5. Stevie Wonder

6. Boy George

7. Whitney Houston

8. Coldplay

General
Knowledge

1. Winfield.

2. The sale of British Gas
shares.

3. Queenstown, Ireland (renamed Cobh
in 1922).

4. On the moon.

5. Absolute zero (0 degrees
Kelvin)

6. October (31 days plus one
hour)

7. Mount Everest.

8. Scafell
Pike (
not
Scafell which is a nearby Peak).

GET BEHIND BARS

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To Hell with the critics!

  What do the customers say about
Life Behind
Bars
?

“Funny, Funny, Funny”

“I certainly don’t look like
Dolly Parton, she’s plain”

“I laughed so much I nearly bought
a round”

“I’ve always wanted to run a bar,
but that’s hit that ambition on the head”

“A man who talks with a limp and
walks with a stutter!!”

“Did these things actually
happen?”

“At last, the real truth about
the pub business and very funny”