Talke Talke 3rd June 04
Hannahs (Once the Mecca ‘bingo hall’
of Kidsgrove) Tel 786990
Congleton Road,
Butt Lane, Talke. A buffet style meal at
£7.95 per person (fridays and Saturdays, cheaper in the week!)
Click here for Picture gallery
Eyes down then and look in:
The lucky
12 were: Yup, Tone, Ali 'The
Power-less' Gee, R Gee Bargee, Granpop Bill, Keithee 'I'm on for it', Jaycee, D
Ceen, Richee, Stubbee or is it Chukkee? Spikelett and Matt Nixon.
Craigee didn’t
show. He was getting his birthday
presents. Was
she worth it? Did you turn on the screw? Did she ask for more?
Rosevilles let us
down at the Westbury, who had adopted a make them
wait policy. So I took steps and phoned just one
more time. The trombones began to play when two little ducks, Danny la rue and whinney the poo finally arrived to pick us up.
Nearly
there, we went straight
on through the lights at Talke, where we immediately lost radio
signal and past two fat ladies with droopy drawers.
The only saving grace was the
thought of the Robinson’s Unicorn and double hop, which would be on tap.
Money began to fly
around in all directions; sponsorship money for Michael, the poor student,
Budapest, curry cruise etc, etc.
The queen B ushered us into the back room, complete
with a dartboard on one wall and a condom hanging off the ceiling which seemed
to attract more than eleven flies.
One
dozen of us showed up in
total including half a century Tone and Dancing Queen Richee who supped a pint of
smoothflow for Beardee’s sake, who unfortunately, was down on his knees, and taking
steps to staying alive.
Time
for fun. JC challenged Keithee to a game of
darts. Having won by at least three score and ten, he broke into a duck and dive routine imitating Tony McPhee whom
he is obviously eager to see again shortly.
DC raised a glass
to the forthcoming stone beer festival, which he will be arranging soon, where
over five dozen ales will be available.
Barry, Tone’s
brother-in-law was spotted lurking in a corner as we left. No time to stop and chat, it was time to jump and jive, buckle
my shoe and get up and run,
despite being over weight. The canal was its usual cup of tea colour with just one little duck surviving.
Halfway there,
well tickle me, the Hog roast van was
spotted up on the bank side again, stuck in a tree.
A worn inscription
could just be made out on an old building ‘John Gater built the kidsgrove gas
light company in four and seven??’ Any relation??
Young
and keen, Matty N and
Spikelett showed up at Tony’s Den; The
Bluebell. Spikey had taken the Brighton Line, clickety click,
clickety click. Luckily he
hadn’t gone straight on through, or else
he may have ended up in Torquay in Devon. Spike enthused about the cost of his
train from Stoke at four and seven. Matty confessed to the Bluebell being his
local and yet he’d never been there before; snakes
alive.
It was pick and mix at the Bluebell. Kinver Caveman and Oakhams JHB were amongst
a fine array of beers made in heaven. The names on the blackboard changed quicker
than the tic-tac men’s odds at Cheltenham.
A bang on the drum and it was time for the 20 minute
trek to Hannahs. A tweak of the thumb and Ali Gee, under doctor’s orders, hailed a taxi to Hannahs, whilst
the rest of us took steps to meet in time for tea. Thank
goodness the footpath outside had been painted ‘foot path’ to guide us in the
right direction.
3 bottles of red,
no 23, were ordered to begin with. D
Ceen queried if it was for thee and me,
before impressing Granpop Bill with his 2-minute achievements down at the
gym. Bill confessed that he now avoids
the duck and dive and prefers the steam
room.
Coming
of age Argee bargee was up to tricks again knocking over first his cobra
and then the wine bottle over unlucky for some,
Tone.
There was no red raw chicken here, just well cooked tandoori
meat from what I recall. Boy, that ale
was strong at the Bluebell.
There’s a knock at the door, thank goodness, I’ve ran out of
bingo calls, so that’s all folks.
Top
of the morning to you,
or should it be shop,
Yupmeister