Basically everyone throws in £20 which is given to Brendadio (my dad).
You put in your order - you get to pick from the wide selection of either a larger, a bitter or a Guinness (choose wisely because swopping is heavily frowned upon) and we are off.
Nothing too sinister in that right?
Well bear in mind that because we go to all the old boys pubs £20 gets you about 7/8 pints and that the session kicks off at about 5. The second ‘money drop’ (£10 this time) usually hits at about 7 – so you can see the kind of pace the three old fella’s set.
And the pace doesn’t stop.
You see the catch is that my Dad and Uncles aren’t out for the night, they meet the wives in Rain Bar at 8.30 and are usual done and back home by 10 (in the case of Special Les, properly done!) Whereas our night is only begging.
So they go hell for leather – basically my dad goes ahead at each bar with my uncles orders the round and has it waiting for you on the bar as you arrive (it is funny seeing 15 pints lined up on a bar mind).
Only problem is that by the time you’ve had half your pint, they are out of the door and one their way to the next pub. It is a vicious circle gentlemen and one that has claimed MANY victims.
You see it’s not always the volume that gets you, it’s the pace (as Maddog can testify).
Normally by the time we hit rain bar to meet up with our female friends we are a gurning mess…and there’s still 6 hours to go…this is usually the time some idiot shouts up the dreaded words ‘cheekies?’ If you hear that, head for the nearest exit.
I’ve actually not remembered leaving Rain Bar before now despite the fact that not only did we leave, but we were in a club for 3 hours afterwards and don’t even get me started on having to help Matt throw up outside BEFORE 8.30 (now that was heavy year).
Author Fraser