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.
A fairy tale of gin, beer and dancing Mr Darcy.
Well that’s if Elizabeth Bennett had a penchant for beer and scratchings, and managed to pull the drunkest person in the Black Country that is.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Back for a bit of Bumble Hole
Throwing your mate in at the deep end aren’t you?
