You have good beer, good pies, good chips and maybe, on occasion, a throbbing machine between the thighs.
Fixed Wheel. It’s bostin. It certainly ain’t broke, so don’t fix it!
I just have to find that (un)lucky beer loving Black Country mon to propose to me. All for the beer of course!
I was only disappointed with the lack of old bush, but there’s always another night.
I have to admit I did stroke a number of the velour chairs while no one was looking.
I have to admit I didn’t immediately notice the nipple action. I was still salivating over the china dogs.
It’s really hard for Black Country pubs to improve on perfection, but serving bread and butter pudding is a noble effort.
Throwing your mate in at the deep end aren’t you?
Shouting ‘You can go your own way’ across the bar could be misconstrued as verbal abuse.
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.