26th January 2023.
I left the Royal Oak at 15:58 and walked the 34 yards (approx) to my first new Bradford GBG tick of the afternoon.
If the Greedy Pig had still been closed (the owner was furiously hoovering earlier having just got back from Spain) I’d have been moderately miffed, as I had to catch the 16:12 to Thornton over west. Ticking in city suburbs is the toughest gig of all, as anyone who’s ticked Bristol or Birmingham will know.
Not only was it open dead on 16:00. there was already a couple of regulars at the bar. I always get oddly miffed when micros open earlier than expected, which is plain daft.
It’s a really lovely small pub, and on pain of death I’d have to admit that the majority of new micros are actually pleasant and welcoming, far removed from the “high tables and silent blokes” grimness of North Thanet and some of the Worthing entries.
The Greedy Pig has a mix of seating,
well-made beers and a smile at the bar.
I ask the bloke with a gorgeous looking pint what he’s drinking and he says “I dunno, she (the landlady) pours it for me before I get to the bar“.
I love that, and I’m tempted to have the White Witch too, but anything called Gothic Stout needs drinking, and you get some good stouts in West Yorkshire. This is gorgeous; cool and rich (NBSS 4). Sadly I only have 5 minutes to drink it before running for the bus.
5 minutes is just enough time for the landlady to reference the four candles sketch,
which the bloke has never heard of. It’s not that funny, and tells you all you need to know about how easily folk were entertained in 1970s Britain.
Not that much has changed in 2023….
At that moment there was a temporary power cut, all the house alarms went off, and I made my exit.
6 thoughts on “THE FOUR CANDLES JOKE FALLS FLAT IN THE GREEDY PIG”
Ah, north Thanet. And others in Kent. Strict Herne Rules.
My middle son used to refer to his little sister as “pig nostrils” on account of her proportionately wider nose than his.
He’s recently needed surgery for a deviated septum and other nasal issues.
That Salamander Gothic Stout looks great!
It has not escaped my notice that you drink faster than you walk. The next pub is never more than 10 minutes away, but five minutes is always enough time to sink a pint and make a dash for the only bus of the day.
Are you trying to make things more exciting for your readers?
I thought I walked fast !
I should have written, you drink *even* faster than you walk!
So you were leaving the bar just as young Simon was arriving?