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The winner of the 3:30 at Kempton is circled using the landlord's biro, but never backed.


On busy nights, you notice that you will wait until "your" space at the urinal is free.


Someone asks you what the food is like. You realise you have never eaten the pub's food, although Maureen occasionally does you up two ham rolls on a Saturday.


You have known Smudger for 20 years and know two things about him. He says he is married, and lives up the back of Tescos.

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Nobody knows Smudger's real name though he's sometimes referred to as Smithie.


Sometimes when there's a "lock-in" you realise you've run out of fags and the cigarette machine always seems to be broken or run out of your brand and you don't want to pay ?6.40 for a pack of 16 that you feel are inferior.


And, what is it with John that whenever he gets on the shorts, he always spoils for a fight.

Bert double-parks his yellow Lada directly outside the front door, winds down the window and huffs and burps until a regular opens the car door and helps him to the large round table near the fire. A warden rolls past in his Vauxhall, but knows a ticket won't give him his target, he's issued too many before.


The regular gets him his bitter, as someone does every day, knowing that he'll be paying for it himself and receive nothing but criticism for his efforts. The beer's warm, or cold, or short or flat.


Like everyone, he'll be gutted the day the Lada doesn't roll up. Not long now.

Been to the moon Bert says he has. All very hush, hush he says. On her Majesty?s business. Victoria that is, not this young upstart we have today. They had proper queens back in his day he assures you.


He can speak for hours on the application of clockwork and steam in space travel. Says he learnt I all from the Russians.


And all they gave him was a lousy car.

The battered For Sale sign hangs precariously on the outside of the pub above the faded Sky Sports banner. Sky has not been shown in the pub for years, and anyway, most of them prefer to watch the horse racing.


Maureen, the barmaid, shows off her new nails to Trev, the landlord who she realises is now her boyfriend.

He has a go at her for wasting their money when they need to save to get Kevin the Staffie castrated.

They both love Kevin very much.


Kevin loves this pub and his new owners. He was bought by them off Jason who wasn't too nice to him.

Kevin still walks with a limp. He knows seven words now!

Walk. No. Dinner. Stay. Good Boy and from his previous owner Kill.



(Edited to change the barmaid's name to Maureen as per previously mentioned!)

As she watches, Trev walks silently to the optics and pours himself one last double of Grants Whiskey. He knocks it back then continues his walk to the far corner of the bar, where he reaches to the floor and lifts the hatch that leads to the cellar. As he descends the steep stairs he stops, turns to face her and says.....

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