The Pop Up Pub!

Fuck a duck!

This is bloody amazing.  A pub, an actual, your actual, real life pub that can be dropped into your garden!

A fucking pub

If your garden is fucking massive and you have shit loads of money that is.

But still eh - we can all dream or if you work for some twatty multinational who have more money than sense  and pay fuck all tax then get the cunts to hire it out for some pretentious summer bonding party, or some such shit, fill the fucker with piss and scratchings and bingo!  Chicken Dinner - or something.

It is very straightforward - sort your venue, phone this lot Pop Up Pub mob tell 'em what you want the pub to be called - the Vodafone arms or what ever - then tell them to drop it at your desired location and get fucking twatted.  Easy.

Stick it on a flat bed 

drop it in your garden

Get fucking pissed and smoke some tabs

Regional Differences - Our Celtic Cousins - Part Two: Ireland

Hot on the....ahem....heels of part one of our regional differences trilogy* is part two.  Read about part one here by the way.

So - part two and this time we put the Irish under the spot light and see what these fuckers get up too eight hours deep into a session.

Something like this you would imagine and you would be right

Again thorough and extensive research was conducted to maintain the objectivity, neutrality and passion to strive for the truth that Scratchings, Beer and fags always aims for and achieves - I'm sure you will agree.

So - Micks then.  I went to Ireland once so feel I have a well grounded vantage point to discuss this matter. I went to limerick in about 1996 and got fucking arseholed for three days.  Plus I have a mate who lives in Ireland - he is a little fellah so he is, and a bit of a cunt.

So my initial prognosis on the snacking habits of the Irish whilst on the smash is that it does not really exist.

Blimey!

My memory of my visit is that I have no real memory of the visit although I can say with some clarity that I definitely had no Scratchings and a testament that can be borne out by my little Irish friend who came to visit the hot bed, and home of scratchings culture - the Black Country - at the end of last summer.  I took him to a favourite watering hole of mine Somers Sports and Social Club where I treated him to the delights of a pork scratching.  He had genuinely never seen one - I know, fucking weird eh!

Anyway the moment arrived and he selected a mid sized scratching with a healthy amount of meat and a nice crispy coat to accompany the pint of shit fizzy lager the cunt had bought, I would like to point out here that Somers has won Camra Sports and Social Club of the year on numerous occasions along with some other shit awards as the beer is fucking off the fucking hook.  So where were we...oh yes...the little Irish cunt had selected a scratching and he then ate it and declared it as disgusting fat ridden muck, well I think that is what he said as he is Irish and talks like Brad Pitt's character in Snatch.  The cunt.

I was fucking mortified, not to mention embarrassed, people were in ear shot, normal people, people who like scratchings - the cunt had the temerity to say he did not like them, but, get this, he likes fucking scampi fries.  Wanker.

So in short - Micks, no bar snacks but white pudding for breakfast so it sort of evens itself out, a bit.  Sort of.

White pudding - this really is the shit

They had to didn't they - could not fucking help themselves - the cunts

Made with real potato as opposed to fucking carrots or something - twats.

So what does Shamrock taste like - I'm guessing chicken

Traditional Irish bar snacks - they eat them like fucking apples

* I probably wont bother doing a dip one as I cant be fucking arsed

Regional Differences - Our Celtic Cousins - Part One Scotland

Welcome fellow Scratchateers!  Hark - is that the rustle of A bag of scratchings being opened?  Well if you are in England, in a pub and half pissed it probably is.

However if you are in a pub in Ireland, Scotland or Wales*  It probably isn't and you are more than likely a massive cunt.

A few bits of admin first - the reason for such a huge gap in between posts is down to the extremely thorough and extensive research I had to undertake to make this post a reality.  Like all good research it was conducted at my house and at no point during my research did I bother to actually go to Ireland, Scotland or Wales.  Actually tell a Lie last Summer I accidentally went to Hay on Wye but I left pretty sharpish I can tell you.

About ten minutes ago I had an idea for a post, erm...no...sorry I mean about a year ago I had an idea for a post and hastily cobbled some research together, well I say research, what I actually mean is texted a lad I know who lives in Dublin and asked him what they had for snacks in the pub and I texted another lad I know who lives in Aberdeen and asked him the same questions.  There that is full and frank research, surely.  Even handed, thorough compelling research that obviously gives me carte blanche to write what the fuck I like about the snack habits of the Irish, Scottish and Welsh**

Kicking of with those cunts who live above us in the frozen barren wastes of the North North of England.  In Scotland the poor cunts are restricted to crisps, nuts and scampi fries (shudders) in the main.  Bloody hell.  That and pints of fucking heavy or what ever shit they drink when there not jacking up.  That's shit.  Really shit.  And to cap it off some places also sell some shit called a Rowie.  In all honesty I cant really make out what it is but one receipe I found looked to me like the ingredients for glue.  Mind it was those those two fat dullards the Hairy Cunts, or what ever there called.

A Rowie yesterday

And if your really interested click here for a receipe for glue, sorry I mean a Rowie by those two fat cunts of the telly.

Two fat cunts of the telly

The jock bloke I hassled for paper thin evidence of Scottish pub snacking also claimed some pubs did Mince and Tattie toastie but frankly I don't believe him and a very quick google image search found nothing to make me think differently - so not only do Jocks have shit bar snacks - they are also proven liars.  The cunts.

However they can redeem themselves ever so slightly by the addition of the jock pie.  I am rather partial to a jock pie and by all accounts some pubs in Scotland serve these but let themselves down badly by not utilising a pie warmer and nuking the cunts in a microwave before serving the pie with it's molten hot filling to an unsuspecting patron, who is Scottish, and guaranteed to be pissed, and WILL therefore burn his mouth.

Oh well.

A Jock Pie this afternoon.

So in summary here are some pictures of Scottish people.  I'm sure you will get my drift.

Ha Ha Ha Has Ha

Likes a jock pie or two

Fan - dabi - spit - roast

Scottish Person this morning.

* I have no actual Idea about Wales - I'm massively speculating.
** Again - not one iota about Wales.

Leaf scratchings am fucking ace

I was sat at me desk at work today when a bloke came in who owns a few boozers round my end and tossed a small plastic bag at me said 'have a go on them'  I inquired as to what they were amd he said 'leaf scratchings'.  Fucking ace I thought - it's got scratchings in the name.

Now I could be a right cunt here and google leaf scratchings, write up a load of shit pretending I know all about them, where they come from and that but the truth is I aint got a fucking clue - never fucking heard of them.

So I am going to google it now and see what the fuck they are.......

..........Right - I am now a complete knowledge on them and have eaten most of them as well.  I'll stick some pictures up and then I will bore the shit out of you about them.

 Right - so thats what they look like - not the most attractive thing in the world granted - but they taste fucking lovely.

Now to appear uber intelligent as I simply cut and paste some crap from wikepedia and insert some swear words into the text.

Leaf scratchings came about as a by-product of the lard making industry. Lard made from the "leaf" of the pig (the tissue surrounding the kidneys) is superior to other types of lard, posh fucking lard if you will. When the leaf is clarified to make the lard the tissues and bits of meat and shit that remain, are then compressed by a sort of cider press device thingy and are cooked - baked rather than fried. The result is flaky rather than crispy, with an intense porky flavour, and a different texture with more ‘chew’ than a traditional scratching.

Sadly, the unpopularity of animal fats, people being fucking gaylords and also EU regulations contributed to the demise of these delicacies.  However, thank fuck, there is one butchers shop in Darlaston that still sells them - they are Coopers of Darlaston and have a website, so have a look on it and order some you cunts. Butchers in the black country what sells leaf scratchings

Also I found this bell end selling them on ebay:  Bell end that sells scratchings on ebay

I ate all of them and feel a little sick now but I can only urge you to try them also as they are bloody lovely.

More sporadic, rubbish updates on my blog in about six months cunt fuckers.

In the mean time log on to www.thegreenwichbarber.com if you want to read other sweary rants by me and other people who like to swear and that.

New Kid on the block

Watch out scratchings - you have a rival.

I went out on the smash last Wednesday - was supposed to be a couple of pints after a fraught tea with my mum, never a nice experience.  Anyway decided to slip over the road to the Wagon and Horses for a few

The Wagon and Horses

I had a couple in there - some delicious Oakham Inferno and the gaffer, Bob, was in fine form.  He was as pissed as a cunt and being fairly aggressive.  He also had a little feel of my wife's tit the dirty bastard.

Bob the landlord who had a feel of my wife's tit

He was trying to coax me into going to the Great British Beer Festival this Saturday, 6th of August.  His sales pitch went something like this - 'come on Danny - leave the kids, fuck it, we can go properly on the piss, not any of your namby pamby shite, properly on the piss!'  Some chaps sat near us overhead and enquired what it was all about and he turned his attention/aggression on them.  Told them about the full English breakfast on offer in the pub prior to departure on a coach to London to go 'properly on the piss', one of these chaps made the fatal error of asking if he could take some cans for the coach to which Bob told him to 'fuck off' and then called him a 'moron'.  Excellent put down Bob - I took notes.

Anyway - we decided to have a swift one in the Hawne Tavern on the way home - always an error as it always gets messy in there.

The Hawne Tavern

As predicted it got very messy - in short I got twatted.  I had numerous white lions and upon feeling a bit peckish towards the end of the night I went to get some scratchings.  But my eye was turned, cheap tart that I am and I saw these hanging from the wall.

I saw these hanging from the wall

"Give me a packet of those" I slurred at the barman and then I proceeded to eat them very quickly becoming extremely agitated if anyone came near them or me and indicated they wanted some as I wanted them all for myself because they are so fucking lovely, and I am greedy cunt.

After the Jalapeno flavour I clocked they had a honey and mustard flavour as well, so I quickly drank two more pints and then weaved back to the bar, falling only once, and bought another packet.

Honey mustard ones

I very nearly got into a fist fight over these but I manged to eat every last one without sharing, I recommend that approach personally if you decide to try them.

My one quandary over this is that there fucking American and we all know they are cunts.  But hey fuck it - they are rather special.

Other information regards the evening - I went outside 20 times as I smoked a packet of these.

So in short - bloody lovely bar snack and I will happily eat them again but they ain't no scratching.