Apologies if this has been posted before, but here's the chance for Hoppy to nominate a couple of places down his street...
http://www.jdwetherspoon.co.uk/home/...spoon-near-you
Apologies if this has been posted before, but here's the chance for Hoppy to nominate a couple of places down his street...
http://www.jdwetherspoon.co.uk/home/...spoon-near-you
J.D Wetherspoon = Home of Hoppy: The Silk Kite, Tamworth.. http://www.tamworthblog.co.uk/2009/0...-blogs-review/
Coming right up!
www.sizzlingpubs.co.uk/
www.emberinns.co.uk/
J.D Wetherspoon = Home of Hoppy: The Silk Kite, Tamworth.. http://www.tamworthblog.co.uk/2009/0...-blogs-review/
I did sarf London by train over a weekend at the end of last year. I had to submit a 3000 word essay and give my life history to the guy at the ticket office at Abbey Wood before he would give me a South Western trains timetable. No such luck with the Southern timetable as all the stations said they did not get them anymore and the bloke at London Bridge information would only give me specific train times and seemed unable to comprehend the idea of a crawl.
WE ARE THE BREADMEN - UP THE BEES
Reading Strongers post has set my paranioa off. Do you think a new threat to the country has been identified by the "Authorities" ? Perhaps known as the Beer Terrorist, an underground army who will stop at nothing to visit unknown areas and deplete beer stocks, then report back to HQ and encourage new recruits to do the same.
All law abiding citizens should deny them information which may aid them in their endeavours. ( Salford Quays T.Lodge or T. Inn ,I forget which, refused to tell me if the building had a lift despite me trying to book a disabled room or if the local pub was disabled friendly ). Public Information Desks which deny public informatoin, how long before some one twigs and redundancies start.
Which raises the question. " Who is the most paranoid ,Me or Them ?"
This reminded me of when my wife lost her purse and she thought she might have left it in our bank in town, asking me to check for her. Of course the days of ringing the bank directly, on a local number, are long gone. Having dialled the number of some anonymous call centre in Scotland, I had to tap my account number and sort code into the automated system before I was even allowed to talk to somebody. I was then put through to a call handler, who asked me a couple of security questions before graciously deigning to transfer me to our local branch.
Having gone through all that, when I finally spoke to the receptionist she said she wasn't allowed to tell me about the purse owing to the Data Protection Act! Cue serious Meldrew-esque apoplexy. (To be fair she saw how farcical the situation was and hinted indirectly it wasn't there).
'And where he supped the past lived still. And where he sipped the glass brimmed full' John Barleycorn, Carol Ann Duffy.
Ah the wonderful data protection act, that must be one of the most abused excuses on the planet. Clearly if the purse had told the receptionist that she was allowed to share its details then the receptionist would have told you straight away
"Do I know where hell is? hell is in hello"