You have good beer, good pies, good chips and maybe, on occasion, a throbbing machine between the thighs.
The most fun I’ve had in a Blackheath industrial unit since…
Fixed Wheel. It’s bostin. It certainly ain’t broke, so don’t fix it!
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.
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.
Ambling around Amblecote: a tale of two streets
I have to admit I did stroke a number of the velour chairs while no one was looking.
A bit of nipple and a surprise in the back
I have to admit I didn’t immediately notice the nipple action. I was still salivating over the china dogs.
Black (Country) Friday: post election pints
Shouting ‘You can go your own way’ across the bar could be misconstrued as verbal abuse.
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.
BLACK COUNTRY PUB 