Apocalypse Now

I’m flat out this week and I have a horrible cold (yes, I am shamelessly trying to elicit sympathy), but I did come across this piece about  the decline of the British pub  in the Guardian (pinko liberal that I am) this morning which looks quite interesting. I haven’t had a chance to have a read of it myself yet, but would welcome your thoughts.

Personally I mainly put the decline of the pub down do to the ridiculously high rates of taxation on alcohol making it so almost prohibitively expensive to regularly go to the pub, and the high price of property making if far more attractive a proposition to owners to sell their pubs to housing developers for a quick tidy profit than to keep running them as pubs.

Contrary to popular opinion I don't think that the smoking ban had nearly as much of a negative effect as many do. Indeed, I don't know a single person who stopped going to the pub after the ban.

Of course most of the people I know who go to pubs are hardcore regulars and even the zombie Apocalypse wouldn't drag them out of there.

[Unless it were to nip out to buy some fags]

Let There Be Light

For a while now Daryl, Casey and I have been thinking about the possibility of producing a run of Taps Zippos.

[Something along on the line of what these guys have done ]

Now a basic chrome Zippo is only about £13.99, and if we were to buy 30 or so of them it would be even less than that, which would mean that adding on engraving costs we’d only be looking at maybe £23-£25 quid or so for a once in a lifetime chance to own a special edition Taps lighter.

At those prices even if you don’t smoke you should start you’ve got to get involved.

Now Casey has been bribed with Desperados volunteered to take the lead in coming up with some kind of design/logo for the lighters to go on one side, and then on the other I thought that we could have some short form of wording.

At the moment I lean towards either, ‘We are the Taps’ or ‘Lo, there do I see my father. Lo, there do I see my mother, and my sisters, and my brothers. Lo, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever.’

The latter of which would likely prove both wildly impractical and make no sense at all (luckily it’s not up to me), but hey please give it some thought and let me know if you have any suggestions.

The Winter Palace

I’ve always thought that London is a winter city.

Winter suits her fragile beauty and is the delicate snow and fog laced frock that she wears the most prettily.

[I may have been a bit drunk the first time I thought this]

That said, I’ve certainly been known to be wrong now and then, and in fact have come to regard the phrase ‘trust your own best judgement’ as more of a threat than vote of confidence. And so I know that there are those who think, not without reasonable justification, that London is at her most fetching in summer.

However, and in a similar fashion, I think we can all agree that The Taps is at her best in the winter. It’s her moment in the sun (if you’ll pardon the mangled metaphor); her Britain’s Got Talent, her Glee Project, her X-Factor, her American Idol.

[This occurs to me now as we (Colin, Irena and I) were talking about Christmas the night before last. Ridiculous though it seems, we’re already half way through August and heading quickly for autumn, and lurking quietly beyond autumn lies Christmas].

Which set me thinking about winter in general.

The taps is glorious in winter, when the sky is red black and the rain falls in ice cold sheets that obscure the yellow gleam of the street lights outside. When there’s nothing better than coming back from work wrapped up, scarfed, gloved and mittened against the cold and walking in to the warmth of the Taps. When the nights are dark and cold and everyone’s spirits are in similar distress. That my friends is when the Taps keeps winning.

When, regulars gathered around the bar listening to the fall of rain outside or watching the first flakes of snow begin to gather through the window, the Taps is such a nice place to be.

Pause.

Overtaken by events.

It’s an interesting phrase isn’t it? A mundane aphorism that we use to describe sudden momentous events which have made our pre-existing plans and expectations suddenly obsolete.

And that’s what’s happened here, these last few days. We’ve been overtaken by events.

Everything else I’d planned to write about a week ago now feels redundant. Out of date, defunct, anachronistic and wholly, horribly irrelevant.

On Sunday my brother told me that the pub had been shut because trouble was expected in town following Saturday’s Tottenham riot.

And I thought it was ludicrous. Preposterous even. I mean this is Enfield, right?

Enfield.

That kind of thing doesn’t happen here.

The idea of it.

Except it did. On Sky News and in HD. It did.

And then it wasn’t just Enfield. The next day it was Hackney and Brixton and then late on Monday night Croydon was on fire.

London was on fire.

Overtaken by events.

[Regular scheduled posting will resume shortly].

God's Chosen People

Take the pledge now.

Who's A Good Boy Then?

There's No Business...

A couple of weeks ago - after a rather disappointing pie and mash outing - a few select members of the Taps faithful watched in amazement as our fearless leader made her acting debut. The decision to cast Irena as 'Barmaid' was a brave one. After all, it involved her not talking or looking the mirror for at least 10 seconds. Look at the concentration as she places those pints...

Charlie

I got to Taps late last night, after having a drink in London, at around 10.30, which on a Thursday is the time just before it goes properly mental and all the proto venereal scum from the George arrive to ruin the Taps for a couple of hours before going on to Ratlers to further ruin themselves.

Anyway, as I came in Charlie greeted me with a broad smile and proudly told me that he was in charge (Irena having disappeared off to Town with my brother, Gareth and Jan).

Understandably incredulous at this preposterous notion I asked Charlie to confirm that this was indeed true and Charlie proudly affirmed that Irena had indeed left him in sole charge.

While behind him Deon just shook her head at me and smiled.

Chapter 9

This is chapter 9 from ‘Passport to the Pub’ – How to Become a Regular. As before, my comments reflecting Taps reality are in red.

How to become a regular

First, choose your pub carefully. If you are here in the tourist season, avoid the obviously tourist-oriented pubs and the larger, more impersonal big-chain pub-restaurants. Instead, search out a smallish, friendly local in a back-street, suburb or village. Make sure that it is a pub full of regulars (see Chapter 3 for tips on identifying regulars).

Well this just stands to reason doesn’t it? But I suppose that if you are an American tourist you really might not know this. Which again raises the question of whether or not this is meant in seriousness or whether it’s a parody? I tend to think that this is meant as a serious advisory manual. Which is, frankly, a bit weird isn’t it? I mean surely America isn’t so alien a country that they’d need a manual to help them use a pub.

Once you have found the right friendly local, demonstrate loyalty by visiting this pub as often as possible - at least 3 times in a week, preferably including at least one weekday evening and one Sunday lunchtime. Going on weekday evenings will show that you are a serious regular pubgoer, not just a casual Saturday-night-out visitor. The pub is also likely to be less busy on weekday evenings, giving you more opportunities to get to know the publican and bar staff. In many locals, Sunday lunchtime is one of the most popular ‘sessions’ with regulars, when they are at their most genial and relaxed.

This is good advice and pretty spot on I think. While you can be a regular only coming in at the weekend it will take you much, much longer to do it that way. It’s a much quicker and easier process if you were to come in during the week on quiet evenings and get to know people that way.

The point about Sunday is also well made – although it was actually more true eight or nine years ago. Sunday was always the regulars’ day – but less so now. Or at least that’s my impression anyway. I’m rarely in any fit state to drink on a Sunday anymore.

At the first opportunity, buy a drink for the publican (or the member of bar staff who serves you), using the "and one for yourself?" formula. Also try to find an early opportunity to make friendly contact with the other regulars. Get involved in the chat at the bar counter, and play your full part in the round-buying ritual.

Well, again, yes. The bottom line is that unless you make the effort to get involved you’re never going to become a regular. Just try and be normal about it. Be decent and nice. Although this point does remind me of something I’ve been meaning to ask the staff: what’s your rationale behind when you will and won’t (this obviously doesn’t apply to Gareth) accept a drink from a customer? Is there an element of ‘no, you’re too much of a weirdo to get into any kind of relationship with).

The benefits of being a regular

The term ‘regular’ covers a number of different ranks and positions within the pub-tribe, from the ordinary member to the tribal elder or warrior. But even the most ordinary rank-and-file member of the tribe is a privileged being, and enjoys a sense of importance and belonging that can never be experienced by outsiders. Once you have established yourself as a friendly, loyal, regular customer, you should start to experience at least some of the joys and privileges of this status. These include:

·    Being greeted by name as you enter the pub or approach the bar. Imagine, after a long day trailing around museums and ‘sights’ as an anonymous tourist, the sheer warmth and pleasure of that initial chorus of "Hello, John!", "Evening, John", "Oh, there you are, John – thought you’d fallen in the lake" - or even "Ah, just in time to buy your round, John!"

True, it is nice, especially if like me you’ve spent all day at work being referred to as ‘that bloke over there crying.’

·    The publican and bar staff knowing what you drink - saying "Usual is it, John?", or perhaps starting to pour your drink before you even reach the bar counter.

I think we take small things like this for granted.

·    Friends. You may never see your fellow regulars outside the pub - most of them have never been to each other’s homes, and would never expect to be invited. But these are friends. The publican, bar staff and regulars in your local are people who take a genuine interest in you, your activities and your concerns.

This is true to an extent, I suppose. But that said, in the Taps we do go to people’s weddings and christenings and birthdays (well I don’t do birthdays). We go to lunch and dinner and museums and galleries together. So yes, it is true to say these are friends. Real friends. Good friends, and, one would hope, lasting friends.

·    Information, advice and help. The publican, staff and your fellow regulars are the best source of information and advice on local matters - from where to catch a bus to how to find a better hotel.

You know, this is truer than you would think. A proper regulars pub is a wonderful mix of all sorts of people, and generally you can find someone who knows a bit about everything, whether that be how to hang paintings for an exhibition, how to sell your house, write a C.V,  fix your computer, set up your phone, or how to run a kick ass sub-committee of the Board (you never know when that might come in handy, you know).

These are just a few of the many pleasures of being a regular - those which seem to be common to all pubs. In your chosen local, regulars may enjoy all sorts of special rights and privileges that are not mentioned here.

The responsibilities of being a regular

Along with the many benefits, there are some duties and responsibilities attached to your new position as a full member of the pub-tribe - but don’t worry, there are no particularly onerous tasks involved.

·    You must always greet the publican, bar staff and fellow regulars when you enter the pub - even when you are feeling tired and unsociable. If you have had a very hard day, you may perform a truncated version of the greeting ritual - a few nods and  "’nings", rather than everybody’s name plus enquiries about their health etc. - but you cannot avoid the process entirely, however weary or grumpy you may feel.

I agree with this. There are times when you just feel the entire weight of the world on you and all you want to do is have a pint and luxuriate in your own misery, but I believe you still have a responsibility to smile and say hello just as a minimum – then you can disappear off to the corner to slowly stew over the many cosmic wrongs which have been done you.

·    You must always play your full part in the round-buying ritual. This means always remembering who has bought you a drink, and making sure that you reciprocate as soon as possible; never having to be reminded that it is your round; always being aware of your companions’ drinking-pace, so that you can say "It’s my round" at the correct moment - without, of course, ever giving the impression of being too concerned or calculating about these matters.

I don’t personally like getting into rounds unless there are only two of you, but that said, again this is absolutely true. If you’re in a round do your friggin’ duty. Although, to be honest, if you’ve got a reputation as a person who doesn’t shoulder their fair weight in the round buying process, you’ll never be accepted as a regular.

·    You must display a loyal, protective attitude towards your pub and everything and everyone in it. If you become a warrior, you have special responsibility for protecting the pool table, dart board or other games equipment from any potential harm or damage. You may adopt a somewhat proprietorial manner in this context, preventing ‘outsiders’ from spilling their drinks on the pool table, for example.

Obviously given my whole ‘the pub is a community’ shtick I strongly believe in this. If you get the benefits of being a regular there are attendant responsibilities to look out for the staff and the pub. First and foremost amongst those – and this if nothing else - try your best not to do anything to make the  lives of the staff any harder than it already is. We’ve all seen the type of Jeremy Kyle, feral, illiterate scum they sometimes have to put with, so let’s not add to that burden [I say this fully realising that I can be as much – if not more of a pain – as everyone else when I’m  drunk, but well….I’m drunk, and I don’t mean it. Sorry] by being idiots ourselves.

Equally, just small things like reminding people that they’re not allowed to take their drinks outside when you see them outside with a bottle or glass, or letting staff know when the ashtray’s on fire. 

·    Finally, you must never take advantage of your privileged status. You must not expect to be served ‘out-of-turn’ at the bar - although this may sometimes happen, simply because a familiar face is more noticeable in a crowd (or because some ignorant tourist ahead of you has offended the bar staff by failing to observe the correct etiquette). You must not monopolise the attention of the publican or bar staff when other customers are waiting to be served - in fact, it is your duty to call out "Hey, you got customers here, mate!", should the publican or staff be engaged in chat and inadvertently neglecting their duties.

I don’t really know if this is true or not. I would never knowingly try and get served if I knew someone was before me, but I would say, ‘Gareth, when you’ve got  a chance’ (which probably counts as annoying behaviour when the bars packed and everyone’s serving three people at once. Sorry), but whether or not I’m then served out of turn I don’t know.

In short, being a regular is a bit like being a member of a close-knit extended family, with all the advantages and disadvantages that this entails. The pub, to many natives, is a second home - and some probably spend more time in the pub than they do in their own homes. Most foreigners find it hard to understand the British love-affair with the pub. We hope that this book has explained some of the irresistible attractions of the pub, and, more important, made you want to discover them for yourself.

To me this about sums it up. Taps family, yo.

Some Day

I quite like the idea of living in a park. Say, up near Crews Hill near the Rose and Crown.

By which I don’t mean totally dropping out and taking to the admittedly glamorous life of a rural hobo, but actually still going to work and going to the pub and such, but that I would just happen to live in the park.

I know what you’re thinking; Ray Mears has a lot to answer for.

(No? You were thinking something else totally different?)

I’d build myself a sturdy water and wind proof shelter using the techniques that Ray Mears has taught to the world (carefully camouflaged so that I wouldn’t get caught), dig out a fire pit for roasting, set up a fire and hanging pot for cooking and frying, buy a case of Laphroaig every few months, and spend my evenings reading, looking up at the stars, and sipping single malt.

And in the morning I’d get up and go to a friend or family member’s house (who would host me on a rotating schedule) to use their shower and get dressed for work.

In the evening I’d go back to whoever’s house was on the schedule for that week, get changed out of my work clothes and into my camping gear and then go to the pub for a bit.

Admit it; it sounds pretty damned wonderful doesn’t it?

Basking beneath the stars in the summer months and wrapped up warm and cosy beneath my shelter in the winter.

I may even take up hunting – rabbits and the like.

You’d all obviously have a standing invitation to come and visit whenever you wanted.

The Taps Premier League Final Top 6 Standings Sweepstake.

Well, it’s that time again.

The Taps Premier League Final Top 6 Standings Sweepstake.

As always the rules are simple: name the order in which the top six will finish. Entry is a fiver (we'll collect the money nearer the end of the season next year), and the person closest at the end of the season takes the lot.

You’ll also need to predict the number of points that the Champions will finish on which we’ll use in the event of a tie.

Mine are:

1^st – Manchester United

2^nd – Chelsea

3^rd – Manchester City

4^th – Arsenal

5^th – Liverpool

6^th – Spurs

Final points total of champions: 81.

Good luck one and all.

Down These Mean Streets

                                  

“I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room.”

                                                                       Raymond Chandler, Farewell My Lovely

Raymond Chandler used to say that, while writing, whenever he found himself stuck for what was going to happen next, he’d just write in a man coming through the door with a gun in his hand, and then go from there.

And in many ways that’s what the Taps is during the week and during the day on Saturdays. In a sense which I can’t quite grasp or properly explain, it’s figurative writers block randomly punctuated by a series of men coming through the door with guns in their hands.

Not literally of course, and not anything even remotely as dramatic (although last night – and here I break my general rule about not talking about named people, just because I’m so annoyed – Mark [barred Mark] came into the pub at about half ten while it was just me, Colin, Gareth and Irena doing the quiz on a humid summer night, and said to Irena: ‘I heard you saw my mum in town today…[pause]…fat Jewish cunt.’ And then just walked out), but similar in that on those slow summer evenings or cold winter days where everything and everyone is much the same as always, that sameness, that stillness, that sense of eternally not quite being on the cusp of something happening, is only ever broken by random non-descript men (because they are almost always are men) coming through the door gun in hand.

And just like Chandler, you never know where it’s going to lead. Often – usually, in fact – it’s nothing, a literary red-herring, just a fella having a couple of quiet beers on his way home. But sometimes you get a real plot twist. The kind of thing you can get your teeth into – a real nut nut say. Four kinds of crazy and all different kinds of twisted.

I know that I’m not the only one who does it – I know Jade does for instance, – but every time the door even faintly creaks I immediately look to see what new literary trope is about to walk in through our door and fleetingly into our lives.

First Contact

I’ve written before about Passport to the Pub   – which is a guide book to the British Pub mainly written for [I assume] American tourists.

It’s quite an interesting read in its entirety, actually – some of it more accurate than other parts, and all of it mildly amusing – such that I’ve never been entirely sure whether or not it’s supposed to be a parody or is meant seriously. Anyway, I thought that I would address (in red) some of the advice contained therein, with particular reference to how things work in the Taps Irish Bar. The below is from Chapter 3 – Making Contact.

Who’s who

To make friends with the natives and enjoy pub life, you need a basic understanding of the social composition of the pub tribe. To the uninitiated tourist, the people in the pub are just a blur of faces - we need to adjust the focus so that you can distinguish between different groups and identify key members of the tribe.

Well so far fair enough, I suppose.

The Manager

The manager, who may be referred to as the licensee, the landlord or landlady, the guv’nor or the host) is the head of the tribe, the high priest, the leader. The skills and personality of the publican influence every aspect of pub life. Even if you never meet the publican, the atmosphere of the pub will tell you a great deal about his or her personal style. The manager is not, however, a dictator. The respect and loyalty of the tribe do not come automatically with the licence to sell drinks, but must be earned. Good managers are expert psychologists and diplomats, maintaining a delicate balance of friendly sociability and calm authority in all their relations with customers and staff.

Well where to start here? Where possibly to start without getting myself barred? Hmmm, indeed…Well, moral coward and spineless bar monkey that you know me to be, I’ll only say that with regard to the Taps this is mainly not really the case. Not really at all. Which is to say, not at all, at all.

How to spot the manager

Dress

Managers do not come conveniently labelled. In many pubs, the manager will be dressed in much the same manner as the staff, and will be seen performing exactly the same tasks - serving behind the bar, collecting glasses, emptying ashtrays, etc. In pubs where the bar staff wear a uniform, the Manager may be dressed differently, but in most pubs you will have to rely on more subtle clues.

Well to be fair, this is true enough, except to say that while the Manager will be dressed in much the same manner as the other staff, she will be wearing substantially less of it than everyone else.

 Customers’ behaviour

First, watch the behaviour of other customers. Regulars will almost always greet the Manager when they enter the pub. The Manager is likely to be the person behind the bar whom everybody seems to know. These factors could apply equally, however, to a popular member of bar staff, so when you have identified a likely publican, you will need to observe his or her behaviour more closely.

Now, in the Taps this really isn’t the case, as regulars know all the staff [and all the staff know all the regulars] and will always greet whoever’s working.

Social roles

Both the staff and the Manager will be seen moving around the pub, exchanging a few friendly words with customers while collecting glasses and wiping tables. But the Manager is likely to stop for longer conversations with customers during this process than the bar staff. This is not because Managers are lazy or easily distracted from their duties, but because this is an important part of their role. The Manager is the ‘host’, and a good host must do more than keep his or her guests supplied with food and drink. You will notice that a good Manager does not show favouritism by spending excessive time with one customer or group, but gives all the regulars more or less equal shares of his or her attention. Watch carefully, and you will see that while the Manager chats amicably with the customers, he or she frequently glances around the pub, keeping an eye on who is coming in the door, noting what is happening at the bar or in a secluded corner.

Yeah…this isn’t really the case at all. Moving on….

Status signals

If you are in doubt, watch for the person who appears to have no difficulty in commanding the attention of staff and customers. The Manager generally does not have to raise his or her voice to attract attention, and a quiet word, or even a look or gesture, will elicit a quick response from members of staff.

I think, to be fair, this is true enough. The Dictator Manager of the Taps is respected by the staff and doesn’t really have a great deal of difficulty eliciting a quick [obviously ‘quick’ is relative when talking about Charlie] response. That said, the concept of a ‘quiet word’ is well…moving on…..

How to spot the regulars

Position

In a local pub, established regulars will usually be sitting or standing at the bar counter, or seated at tables near to the bar. Unless they have a particularly private matter to discuss, regulars generally like to be at or near the main site of social interaction. They will chose positions close to the bar, from which they can communicate easily with other key members of the tribe. In some locals, certain regulars may sit at the same table or on the same bar-stool every night. If a person frowns at you for no apparent reason on entering the pub, you may be occupying ‘his’ seat.

This is pretty much spot on. In fact I was talking to Jade about this the other day and noted that the only 100% undisputed regular who doesn’t sit at the bar is Scottish Richard. It’s entirely unprecedented really. I mean there are some people who don’t sit at the bar, who might be considered to be regulars by some members of staff (like some of the Civic Centre lot who come in on a Thursday), but not necessarily by all of them or by all of the regulars, but with Scottish Richard there’s absolutely no doubt that he’s a regular, and he always sits down at a table.

As to the sitting in someone’s seat bit, well I know that’s me. I know it’s annoying. I know it’s selfish. I know I’m a twat.

Thank you for putting up with me.

Body language

The posture of regulars will be relaxed and comfortable, indicating that they feel thoroughly at home in the pub.

In a crowd waiting to be served at the bar, the regulars will be those adopting a more relaxed posture, not trying so hard to find the best position or catch the barman’s eye. Regulars know that they will be noticed by the publican or bar staff, and do not have to exert themselves to attract attention.

If you see the publican or bar staff pouring a drink for a person and handing it over without any order being given, you know that person is a regular. Bar staff will sometimes start pouring a regular’s drink as soon as he or she comes through the door.

This is all pretty accurate – for many of us – as we often joke, the Taps is pretty much our front room, equally I hope that for the most part none of us do go mad waiting for a drink , or at least I hope it is. I know that as soon as I catch someone’s eye I’ll be served and am pretty happy to leave it at that.

Equally, the staff all know what the regulars drink and if not already pouring it when you come in, are on the start line with glass in hand and a ready, ‘Stella Barry?’

 Names

The publican and bar staff all address the regulars by name; regulars address the bar staff, publican and each other by name. In fact, you may notice that names are used rather more often than is strictly necessary, emphasising the familiarity and personal connections between members of the pub tribe.

You know, I hadn’t really thought about it, but I think this might be true.

Banter

If a customer appears to be rude or sarcastic to the bar staff - making remarks such as "Anytime this year will do" while waiting to be served, or "Look at the state of these ashtrays, you slob!" - and receives similarly insulting comments in return, without any sign of real anger,  you can safely conclude that he or she is a regular.

True.

Initiating contact

To initiate contact with these various members of the pub tribe, you need to know the correct etiquette of introduction - the best places and times to strike up a conversation with a regular or publican, and the appropriate forms of address.

Do stand or sit at or near the bar. This is the most ‘public’ area of the pub, and people lingering at the bar after they have bought their drinks are likely to be the most approachable. People sitting at tables may find your approach intrusive.

True – although that said I personally would prefer it if you didn’t try and talk to me.

Don’t try to engage the publican or bar staff in conversation when others are waiting to be served. Also remember that even when the bar is not busy, publicans and staff have other tasks to perform - such as collecting glasses, loading the dishwasher, re-stocking the shelves, etc. - and may not always be free to indulge in lengthy chats.

This makes sense to me, but it’s something the bar staff will have to address. I suppose the bottom line is ‘just try and be a normal decent human being.’ If you see that someone’s working, stop talking to them.  If the person you’re talking to is clearly uncomfortable, stop talking to them. Just try and be normal.

Do make use of traditional rituals. Offer a drink to the publican or member of staff who serves you - using the customary "and one for yourself" formula. You can, of course, strike up a conversation with bar staff without buying them a drink, but this friendly gesture will certainly be appreciated. If you have a foreign accent, your use of the correct form of words – indicating an unusual knowledge of pub etiquette – may be a pleasant surprise and instant talking-point.

I assume that being offered a drink is better than not being, but again, this is one for the bar staff to answer. Would you find this a bit strange? If I was in a pub I’d never been in before and got talking to the staff it’s what I’d do after a while.

Don’t be shy. In local pubs, foreign tourists are a novelty, and the natives are likely to be just as interested in you as you are in them. Regulars may well be bored with seeing the same old faces, and will often welcome a diversion, so do not be afraid to take the initiative in talking to them. (If any native does not want to chat, he or she will soon make this clear by answering in monosyllables or by non-verbal signals such as turning away, avoiding eye-contact etc.)

Again, this is pretty much on the money. But that said, I’d still prefer it if you didn’t speak to me.

Do approach lone drinkers rather than couples or groups. But if you are male, avoid approaching lone females (and vice-versa), as this may be misinterpreted. Watch for ‘open’ body-language. Initiate conversation with regulars who are standing or sitting facing outwards into the room, perhaps leaning back slightly and looking around them.

I suppose this is true.

How to introduce yourself

The object is to ‘drift’ gradually into conversation, as though by accident. If the person seems happy to chat with you - giving longish answers, asking questions in return, maintaining eye-contact, etc. - you should still curb any urges to introduce yourself. Instead, offer a drink, but avoid using the word ‘buy’: say "Can I get you a drink?" or "Can I get you another?"

Again, this is pretty good advice. But again, don’t talk to me.

When you find a pub that you like, try to go back a few times. There is a saying in some very friendly pubs: "You come here twice, you’re a regular". Two visits will not, in fact, qualify you for the all social rights and privileges of a long-established regular, but it does indicate a warm and welcoming approach. After a few visits to a friendly local, you may well experience some of the joys of being a regular: you may be welcomed by name, offered your ‘usual’ drink and included in the general chat and banter.

Certainly in the Taps two visits won’t do it unless, that is, you’re possessed of a vast wit and a magnetic personality. It will take some work and some time, but [if you have nothing much else going on in your life], I think it’s well worth it.