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.
I threw caution to the wind and opted for the homemade sausage roll.