A Titanic Struggle        Stoke to Jalsa              30^th May 2008

All aboard who were going aboard were:  Yup, Pedro, Mid Week Tone, JayCee, Keithee, Downsize Dave (Byrne the Bolt), Granpop Bill, Craigee, Richee, Triglette, Spikelet, Mr Tahoohigh and Dan the Man.

Yup, Pedro, JayCee, Keithee, Dave the Byrne Bolt and Granpop Bill, eager to get started, met up earlier than the rest at the White Star, Titanic’s latest pub in Stoke.  Pedro let us into his conspiracy theories; one of which was that the Titanic ship had square port holes and therefore the one that sank in the film couldn’t have been the right one because it had round holes; or was it the other way round? After more ale and feeling sea sick, we agreed.  We were slightly sceptical though until his second theory was proved correct; that JayCee uses his colostomy bag to keep his change in.  Out it came ….. he was spot on.

Having proved this theory to be correct, Pedro was keen to see the change spent, and persuaded JayCee to part with it for another Iceberg before we headed off to our next port of call, the Jolly Potter. 

The regular bus service came in handy for hobbling Yup and Granpop Bill, who took great delight in smiling at the grumpy driver as he flashed his free bus pass under his nose.  Paul Baddeley of the town hall, was sitting on the bus and gave a glowing recommendation of the Wolverhampton’s beer festival which he’d just returned from.  It couldn’t have been that good though cus he was still coherent. 

Disappointingly, the Jolly Potter was found to be shut and rumour has it that it is now permanently closed its doors.  One person who used to frequent the Jolly Potter, when he were a lad, was Triglett, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere to join us.

Waiting for another bus to take Yup, Granpop and Trig to the Greyhound at Hartshill, the three took a quick gander at the Robin Hood across the road. The rest of the lads walked on to the Greyhound.  2 seconds was enough to prove why the Robin Hood had never appeared in any real ale guides, or even any recommended pub guide for that matter.  Standing, waiting at the bus stop outside a terraced house, a dead hanging basket hung limply from a rusty hook. ‘Hung, drawn and not watered’, as Triglett accurately described it.

Finally, we joined up in the Greyhound with Craigee, Richee, Mid week Tone, Spikelet, and last but not least Josepe and Dan the Man, who arrived shortly after.  A sneeze from Spikelette, strong enough to have blown a ship off course, bellowed out across the entire room.  Another longitude over here Joseph shouted out to keep him on course, or was it just the old premium in disguise?      

As usual, future events were dreamt up, particularly by top organiser, Lionel Richee.  Amongst the ideas was a possible clay shooting event for later this year (July/August), or maybe next year.  Triglet declared he’d be no good at it even though his name is Trigger.  With that, we sank our pints and moved on to the Jalsa at the allotted time of 9.15, where we were told we’d have half an hour’s wait before the table was ready.  Without much ado, we moved swiftly into the Museum, just up (or was it down?) the road, and tested their ale.  Downsize Dave couldn’t wait for the grub, and ‘bolted’ in search of fast food.  Someone asked Granpop Bill when it was he retired the first time before returning to Stoke.  ‘I shall finish when my hearing aid packs up’, he replied.

The table was at last ready for us, and as Keithee was past his best, Triglet did the honourable deed and chose wine no 4, a smooth cabernet sauvignon.  An excellent choice as ever, I think!

The service was slow, the poppodoms were late, and Yup’s curry had to be sent back to the kitchen to be replaced with the one he’d ordered.  Craigee had more chillies than he could handle and soon began to drip liberally over the table.  The chillies also hit Spikelet who also bolted in search of fresh air.  In all, a fairly good meal, but with poor service the tip was reduced accordingly, and the surplus was put to one side to boost the xmas fund.

We fell out of the Indian and soon dispersed into different directions. Pedro carried a glass of red wine to the A34 where he bribed Keithee’s daughter into giving him a lift home. Somehow the rest of us got home in taxis.

Regards

Yupmeister

(enjoy yer baltis)