Where’s the Yuppy Gone? Audley 22^nd Feb 08

Up for it were Yup, Mid week tone, Pedro, Richee, Lancelot (Richee’s mate from Gloucestershire), Granpop Bill, Keithee, JayCee, Craigee and Steve Picky (Craigee’s mate), D and C McCeen, Spikelette, Axe, Mr and Master Tahoohigh.

Ali and Argee Bargee couldn’t be bothered with the curry but managed to honour us with their presence at the beer festival. Jacko was on his travels again; safariing around South Africa.

As usual for this trip we caught the bus from Newcastle’s bus station at around 6ish. Oh what a joy public bus shelters are ! The shelters are so narrow it’s impossible to stand still while pedestrians walk past. JayCee learnt the basic steps of the cha cha as we waited. The fuzz were seen bundling a rowdy youth up against a wall to begin interrogations.

As we settled on the bus, the lad was released and he made a bee-line to our bus and a seat next to Mid Week Tone. Perhaps it was the sight of the numerous caps which were being worn to cover shiny crowns that had attracted him to join us. His vociferous remarks were excused however when he explained he’d been to his best friend’s funeral that day. His friend had been killed on the A50 outside the Britannia Stadium. Enough said. We decided to get drunk too.

It was a quiet night at the Plough until we descended on it. Michael raised the recent Manchester visit which he’d missed and suggested many other alternative areas we must include in the future. Bar 5, one of the suggested pubs, set JayCee off, launching into choruses’ of Barbarbar barbar ran, ba ba blacksheep etc. Very childish but a right giggle when you’ve had a pint. Steve Picky soon settled in the chorouses and will hopefully join us again if JayCee’s singing didn’t put him off too much.

Unannounced, and unsurprisingly, Scottee arrived in the bar, along with Richee and Lancelot who said he’d recently enjoyed a Foster’s festival in Gloucestershire. This was not an impressive debut until it was clarified that it was the Frosters beer festival, so he was rapidly accepted into the group.

Many lip-smacking ales were on, including an old favourite Arbour Light, despite the previous rumours of the pub going downhill. Time began to run out so the last drops of ale had to be forced down overflowing gullets, ready to move on. Perhaps a 5o’clock start next year would be better. Tone recalled how when he lived in Chesterton as a young lad, he’d experienced the same feeling after he had scaled a fence and drank as many bottles of dandelion and burdock he could before almost exploding and running off to escape the security men. Not much change there then.

Ax was reassured that the next pub, despite having numerous names, such as the Swan, the Mucky Duck, or the Old Swan, was one and the same. He would not get lost or left behind in this neck of the woods. It could never happen!!

The bloated group meandered down through the village to the Swan, which looked in fine metal. Besides the ales, the menu also looked appetising and maybe a return for a bar meal in the future could be on the cards. Thornbridge’s Morewood was sampled by Mr Tahoohigh and Granpop Bill but surprisingly wasn’t given top marks. Several attempts to swop theirs with Yup’s beautiful Kelham Island’s Pale Rider failed.

Pedro took great delight in informing us that JayCee now stacks his notes up in piles when he goes to bed. Now how does he know that?? The young and upwardly mobile entrepreneur, Master Dan, confessed that he may have to consider moving out of the Tahoohigh residence at some stage and was looking for alternative accommodation. Granpop Bill was about to offer up his garage to him until he was reminded that this is to be the birthplace of the Squarry Ales Brewery when we’ve won on the lottery.

More attempts were made to nick Yup’s Pale Rider, a name also synonymous with condoms. ‘I suppose you thought Johnny Cash was change you got from a condom machine’ said Mr Tahoohigh.

At the football club’s beer fez, just a few minutes further down the road, Joe attempted to make up for missing out on the Pale Rider, so went off in search of the Oakhams Bishops Farewell. With his eye sight deteriorating, he made do with the Brewers Gold, and cursed again as Yup appeared with a pint of Farewell.

Ali and Argee, arrived fresh from neck-end, and began over-heating, unaccustomed to a room with radiators. The D and M Ceens were spotted on the pies again just to put a lining on their stomachs. Lucky there were any left with Ali Gee being present.

Again, it was time to rush off. A full repertoire of high-pitched piercing whistles from Spike rounded everybody up, except for JayCee who missed it and continued catching up with Ali G, until he realised he was on his own. No, it would never happen again!

The wine offer at the local offee, 3 for a tenner, was good enough for us. We squeezed onto the tables at the New Royal and McCeen gave a student skills demonstration by opening the bottles with his teeth. JayCee tried to match him by pulling out his swan vestas to relight the table candles. After several attempts we gave up waiting and got them lit by the next table.

Pedro was stopped from ordering chats as we ordered several million poppodoms and chutneys. The meals were up to their usual excellent standard and value, at around £15 a head. Twas time to go, so with the bill settled, we stepped outside to catch the bus.

After a ten minute wait, patience began to wear thin for some, so Yup returned to the Indian where they ordered 3 taxis. (I’m writing this in the third person, so I don’t get annoyed!). Outside, the bus arrived, so Yup returned to cancel the taxis. Coming out, just 10 seconds later, the bus and the squarrites had gone. It was like a scene from one of the old westerns with the tumbleweed blowing down the road. Yes my ex-mates had gone without me, while I was doing my damndest to sort out our predicament!!! (argh .. I’ve switched to first person again).

The mobile rang, and I woke up slouched across a picnic table outside the Butcher’s Arms, with a bottle of wine in my hand. Mid Week Tone expressed the groups sorrow at my demise. In the background could be heard the chorus of ‘Where’s the Yuppee gone?’ echoing out across Bignal End.

A taxi turned up however, and a cheap journey home was ensured as the driver, a keen curry fan, became putty in my hand with just one flash of the Squarry Club’s business card.

With the taxi window open, I could hear the distant sounds of ‘I just called to say I love you’, floating in the breeze, followed by what sounded like the gnarling of a rotweiler. Surely, there was no trouble on the bus? Surely no-one would get so riled up that they would even follow someone off the bus and continue bickering and snarling? Not at their age, surely!! Strangely, I was glad to be sitting in a taxi slurring away to the putty man.

As the night activities quietened down and the rotweilers slept, the sudden screaming of a woken up mother-in-law rang out across the potteries, directed at some dipstick who had opted to stay out until 3.30am for a late top up, and had lost his house key. Surely not ?!!! Ax would never lose anything, or anyone. It never happens !!

Night night mates

Yupmeister

(enjoy yer baltis)

Footnote from Axe:

It was 3.10am, it was my mother that I had to phone to bring the spare key around (not mother in law, she's in Ireland, that would be really takin the xxxx). And I hadn't lost the key; I just couldn't find my pocket.

I found it in the morning!