Wench #2 decided he was a definite serial killer which was a little disconcerting as he kept trying to hold my hand and I left with his phone number.
Wench…dow get barred for swearing
With my foamy moustache of stout head, I wrapped my lips around pork and ham. It was a beautiful moment.
Who broke my heart in Brierley Hill?
So who broke my heart on Saturday night? Well it wasn’t the Dudley Beer Festival. Or the Dog & Partridge.
Green door, what’s that secret you’re keeping?
I’d like to feel the same about us Green Duck. The beginning of a long-lasting relationship between wench and brewery. Only this time there’s no need for a hand up the bum or a sad song.
Dame Barbara Cartland, I never thought I’d see you in a Halesowen boozer
It’s really hard for Black Country pubs to improve on perfection, but serving bread and butter pudding is a noble effort.
From an Old Growler to an Old Cat
You could bring your special wench or chap to this cosy corner and hold hands, with nothing but the ‘it’s always Christmas here snowman’ as gooseberry.
