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.
With my foamy moustache of stout head, I wrapped my lips around pork and ham. It was a beautiful moment.
So who broke my heart on Saturday night? Well it wasn’t the Dudley Beer Festival. Or the Dog & Partridge.
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.
It’s really hard for Black Country pubs to improve on perfection, but serving bread and butter pudding is a noble effort.
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.