Sorry

Now I know that sometimes I can be a bit of a grumpy [judgemental, intolerant, insular, parochial] old bugger, and that my last post might be rightly construed as being ever so slightly over the top. [I mean ‘human faeces’ really Taps Richard, really?]

And so I thought about it over the weekend and I was half tempted to edit it or even take it down entirely, but I was speaking to Casey about it on Saturday and she was of the opinion that irrespective of whether it was right or wrong there was at least some artistic value/integrity in maintaining an honesty of voice (or something like that – I was very drunk at the time).

So that being the case, rather then editing or removing the last post, I thought I’d try and go some way to explaining it. Not by way of mitigation you understand, but simply in explanation.

I suppose that when it comes down to it there’s something both quite childish and selfish to my views on random scummers. In fact there’s something quite childish and selfish in some of my characterisations of people as scummers. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are quite a few genuine scumbags around, but in all honesty most of the time the people I’m talking about are just idiots. They’re young and annoying and ever so slightly gauche (in the context of the Taps setting), and just don’t really understand how pubs work, having grown up in a society where they’re becoming less and less prevalent.

So what I’m really just saying is that basically I just don’t like them. That they and I have very different views of life and pubs and probably most all other things. Their idea of what’s fun is something very different from mine.

By which I hope you understand that I realise that the problem is my unreasonable and arbitrary prejudices and expectations, as much as it is their behaviour. I’m just intolerant and selfish.

I get it. It’s a fault, and maybe I might even try and work on that failing one day.

[but I wouldn’t hold your breath]

And then there’s the slightly childish explanation – and I think that this is one that many of us share – and that narrative goes a little something like this: the Taps is ours. It’s our little private social club, and we don’t like people coming in and fucking it all up.

Because we’re the ones who put in the hard yards . Who are there day after day, week after week, and year after year.

And you can’t help but think to yourself, ‘who the hell are you to come in to our pub and mess it up just when we’ve got it all nice?’

Who are you to bump into me like that? To drown out my conversation with your vapid braying noise. Who are you to spill your drinks and block the doorway? Who are you to spit on the stairs and to leave your glass in the urinal? Who are you to speak to the bar staff like that? Who are you to sit on Barry’s stool and in the regulars’ corner?

Just who the fuck are you?

And the answer? Well the answer is that who they are is probably mainly just regular decent people who work the longest hours of any country in Western Europe. Who have all manner of stress and worries in their lives and who at the weekend or on a Thursday night just want to have a laugh in a nice pub.

It's probably an unsolvable issue. But I do think that when you put it in the above context they've probably got more right to feel aggrieved (should they ever know of it) by my scorn and intemperance than ever I do by their behaviour.