Tales From the Pub

Loud talkers - we've all had to endure them, I'm sure. Particularly in the pub. I don't know why some people feel it necessary to speak at a volume several decibels louder than an elephant farting, (which is pretty loud - trust me), when in a public place, thereby inflicting their conversations on anyone else within a five mile range, but a surprising number do. The other night in my local I had the misfortune to encounter an entire group of this species. The most perturbing thing about this lot was that they felt it necessary to shout their conversation in a near deserted bar. A word or two of explanation is required before we go any further here - my local pub has two main bars (lounge and public) and a third area which, during the day acts as a dining area, but in the evenings is an overspill for the bars. Now, I usually drink in the lounge bar, (the public bar is usually full of piss artists not watching the TV they've turned to full volume), but this particular evening I'd spotted Ted, the pub bore, haranguing another unfortunate regular, so I made my escape into the dining area, which was completely empty (as was the public bar, it turned out).

I was perfectly happy there, reading the paper and drinking my beer when this group of blokes I didn't recognise bowled in and, despite there being another completely empty bar next door, decided to sit at a table at the opposite end of the dining area. They then proceeded to talk to each other VERY LOUDLY. Honestly, it was as if they were speaking to each other through megaphones, despite sitting next to each other. I wouldn't have minded if they were actually saying anything interesting, but they weren't. I can really do without being deafened by inane chatter about football. But the best was yet to come. After about ten minutes, another member of the group turned up. He was clearly the alpha male, as he didn't just shout his conversation, he bellowed it. Indeed, he seemed to think that the louder he bellowed his 'witticisms', the funnier they were. These 'witticisms', by the way, all seemed to involve belittling other members of the group by questioning their sexuality. "YOU'VE ONLY HAD SEVEN PINTS - WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, ARE YOU A HOMOSEXUAL OR SOMETHING?" "FRED'S WEARING A PAISLEY TIE - IT MAKES HIM LOOK LIKE A HOMOSEXUAL!" and "I SEE BERT'S DRIVING A PINK CAR - HE'S TURNING INTO A HOMOSEXUAL!" were the highlights. (Actually, those aren't verbatim quotes - they're actually far wittier than anything he really said).

To make things worse, he turned out to be a Liverpool supporter of the worst kind - a non-scouser. Trust me, they are always arrogant bastards who refuse to accept that Liverpool aren't a major club anymore and are just mid-table, and who whinge about referees and God knows what else every time the don't qualify or the Champions' League. According to him, if Harry Redknapp wants to win the league he should move to Liverpool, as they have a better chance than Spurs. (Yeah, that's why we're four places and sixteen points ahead of you, knob head). Eventually, fearing for my hearing, I left. Still, it was an interesting experience from a sociological point of view. I'm off to the pub now, to see if they come back. This time I'm taking my own megaphone, so I can shout "I'M SORRY, COULD YOU SPEAK UP, I CAN'T HEAR A THING YOU ARE SAYING!" at them.