I want to run into the kitchen and beg the cook to tell me her secret. Maybe she’s a Black Country witch.
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.
Between heaven and hell, I’m off to the Chapel for a good rant
I’m sure our souls will need saving at some point during the evening.
Art, love, sex, beer and curry. Saturday in West Brom.
There was no sex for us, but they do say it’s wrong to exercise on a full stomach.
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.
From John O’Groats to Land’s End via Lye Cricket Club.
I just have to find that (un)lucky beer loving Black Country mon to propose to me. All for the beer of course!
Not enough Old Bush
I was only disappointed with the lack of old bush, but there’s always another night.
Saturday slacker stumped in Sedgley and seduced by Sadler’s
Don’t judge us. You know you would too.
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.