I want to run into the kitchen and beg the cook to tell me her secret. Maybe she’s a Black Country witch.
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.
I often wonder about that poor Black Country wench who’s annoyed that her freezer is still broken!
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.
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.
I was only disappointed with the lack of old bush, but there’s always another night.
Don’t judge us. You know you would too.
I have to admit I did stroke a number of the velour chairs while no one was looking.