No so bright now eh?

The smoking ban has been in for a while now and what a fantastic piece of legislation it has proved to be.











Pubs are smoke free, the air is healthier, my clothes don't stink and drinking establishments are, generally, much more pleasant places to spend time. It also seems that, contrary to what the pro-smoking alliance kept telling us, the pub industry isn't dying - apart from those that were probably on the Grim Reaper's list long before July 1st 2007.

But the smokers still aren't happy. After all, why shouldn't they be allowed to expel hazardous fumes upon people who would rather not breathe them in? Why should they have to go outside in the open air in order to take their pathetic dose of precious, precious nicotine?

Well one Yorkshire publican seemed to disagree with the latest legislation, openly allowing his clientèle to smoke within the four walls of his premises, a fact he admitted live on the BBC Yorkshire regional news.

His argument is that people have a human right to smoke inside a public house.

If said landlord genuinely believes that the "right" to smoke is included in human rights legislation, perhaps he should consider actually reading up on the contents of the European Constitution on Human Rights. Whilst he's at it, he can download a map to the nearest Magistrates.

T'was the night before Christmas...

... and there was feck all on the telly.









Christmas TV always manages to scrape the barrel of the television archives and this year is no exception.

Aside from some big-name film that can now be found in the £3.99 bin at Blockbuster, Christmas TV, especially Christmas Eve television, tends to involve repeat after repeat after repeat of Blackadder, however many versions of A Christmas Carol that currently exist and The Santa Clause.

This year, a thumb through the TV guide reveals nothing, absolutely nothing worth watching.

Aside from the 'Christmas Eve specials' of various soaps designed at the 'OK Magazine' reading share of the audience, the film offering consists of either 'Pirates of the Caribbean; Curse of the Black Pearl' on BBC One or back-to-back showings of the chav favourite 'The Fast and the Furious' and '2 Fast 2 Furious' on ITV2. I've no idea what ITV1 are showing as they try to expand their audience of complete morons.

BBC Three has 'Football Gaffes Galore' - probably the same DVD that you'll be getting for Christmas tomorrow followed by wall-to-wall Little Britain.

The only saving grace is a 'Father Ted' marathon on More4.

So Christmas Day.... what have we got? Shrek 2 and Finding Nemo? That might work. ITV1 are showing some crap from X Factor and I've not idea what the other channels are showing.

Oh, and there's the Christmas speech - whoop-de-fecking-doo.

Is it any wonder why we're so good at binge drinking? Drinking dangerous amounts of alcohol is far more preferable to a night in front of the box.

You've got a friend

If there's one thing that makes you a proper bloke, then changing a flat tyre in the rain is surely up there.


The deluge that hit Yorkshire yesterday didn't make for a pleasant evening on the pop but nevertheless, we ventured up to Headingley where we would watch whatever rugby match was on the TV (Wigan v Catalans as it was) before heading into town.

Now the four Bramley lads all jumped in a taxi and each argued with each other over how much we each owed to pay the driver the £6 fare - the done thing in these parts.

Now our mate Stephen on the other hand, lives in Pudsey and so decided to get a lift up from his mum who refused to drive him anywhere until Coronation Street had finished.

Now before we go any further, please bear in mind that our mate Stephen is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Bright enough guy that he is, it's fair to say that he lacks a few 'life skills'. It is also worth noting that our mate Stephen will do absolutely anything to get out of buying a round.
Got that? Good, we can continue.

So Stephen meets us in the Skyrack and heads to the bar, unusually, without being prompted. As he's there, the phone stats ringing. The wallet soon goes back in the wallet and he heads outside - his mum has got a flat tyre, or so he tells us.

A few minutes later, my phone starts ringing.
"My mum's got a flat tyre"
"How bad is it"
"Errrm"
"Could you get it to a petrol station"
"Errrm.... can you come and have look"

Now at this point, my drinking buddies thought I was mad but like good mates and proper blokes, undeterred by the monsoon outside, two of us set out to help a friend in need, under the firm belief that such an act of kindness would result in a few free 'taxi rides' in the near future.

We arrived on scene to our mate Stephen standing around on St Michael's Road looking like a drowned rat whilst his mum sat in the car with the heating on.

The tyre was almost destroyed but unfortunately, Stephen looked at me expecting to impart some good news like "it'll get you a a garage" or something equally optimistic. There was no chance. In the wall of the tyre was a hole the size of a ten pence piece and it turns out that she hit the curb at some point. My mate Oli (who had joined me to assess the situation and assist with the tyre replacement) put on his best 'dodgy car mechanic' impersonation and told him " yep, there's yer problem". "Oh, I didn't notice that" he said worryingly.

It was an unpleasant experience, the rain was unrelenting, it was getting dark, a stream was racing down St Michael's Road and we were more dressed for going to fancy bars than for fixing car. But like the good people that we were, we had to help our friend and so we did.......






... we told him to phone the AA and then went back to the pub.


This was about 8:30. He then met us in a city centre bar at about 11:00pm.

The "do-nots" of DJing

I've already told you about how I found myself in one crap pub last week, well yesterday I found myself in another equally forgettable establishment - this bad pub theme could become a regular feature.


The venue in question happened to be 'The New Inn' in Farsley, commonly referred to as the 'mad-house' by those who accompanied us.

After hearing the place from well over 300 yards away, the scene inside was one of complete amazement and, frankly, horror.
Aside from the shirtless skin-head and the cluster of chain smoking middle-aged women chatting away about Big Brother or whatever crap TV show they watch these days, the more disturbing sight was the sheer number of 61+-year old women who still thought that they could dance like a 21-year old.

But what was even more wrong was the DJ, who committed one of the most appalling acts of Disc Jockey amateurism ever displayed.
Under no circumstances should any DJ play 'Friday I'm in Love" when it isn't Friday. Ever.

The point behind Poker?

It doesn't take much persuasion for me to find myself inside an ale house of some variety, so when I was invited to a Pudsey hostelry by an old mate, I didn't stop to ask many questions.









Upon arriving at said establishment, it became clear that the night would not be consisting of numerous drinks, pool and darts but instead, would be featuring eight individuals sat around a green table who would take in excess of one hour to pass around some bits of cardboard and some coloured plastic discs.

It quickly became apparent that this particular venue was part of some "Live Pub Poker League" and that these scenes were becoming increasingly common within those four walls. As a complete novice, I stood well back, but my friend had no intention in explaining to me the intricacies of Texas Hold 'em.

So I sat just over his shoulder, not saying much for fear of distracting him and upsetting the hoard of locals who could tell that I "wasn't from round 'ere". Instead I just watched and nodded as he turned around and told me "that's a good hand, that is" and "he's bluffing, he is".

The game itself is as boring as sin. For reasons I still don't understand, players were dropping out after various rounds and in the end, two players were left to battle it out. My mate actually emerged victorious to take the grand prize of £11 that had been so valiantly fought for. That said, my opinions obviously count for little, Poker is a massive industry and has acquired a global media appeal.

Sky Sports, in fairness, do their very best to sensationalise the whole event. Titles such as "Poker Million Masters" are obviously designed to give the idea of six fat blokes at a table a little bit more of an appeal and sticking heart-rate monitors on the players and having a whole host of graphics appear on screen make for compelling viewing after you get home from the pub at 1:00am.

The pub itself was hardly Pudsey's most upmarket establishment. The choice of beer being limited to nothing worth consumption, the overwhelming prevalence of Burburry clad 17-year-olds and the illegal sale of Eastern-European duty free cigarettes from behind the bar spoke volumes.

Still, these places serve a purpose I suppose.

It's nearly here

What is possibly Labour's only positive contribution to anyone is not far from coming into force.









From July 1st, it will be illegal for the nation's ignorants to shamelessly blow acrid smoke directly into people's faces in pubs, clubs and restaurants - and I can't wait.

To remind us of the fact, we're being told that £30m is being spent on an army of enforcers who will be dishing out £50 to anyone who resembles a chimney after that date. But whilst I fully support the smoking ban, I don't really think that £30m is what is needed to control such measures.

The smoking ban will, by and large, be self policing. With landlords not wanting to risk their license, smokers will quickly find themselves unwelcome in most of the countries establishments. I'd be pretty certain in saying as well that the council chiefs waiting to hand out a plethora of yellow slips of paper won't be venturing out to a local boozer on a working class council estate and instead, they'll be focusing their attention on the already secure bars and clubs in the city centre and student districts, where internal security staff will most likely be on high alert as soon as the clock approaches midnight on June 30th.

Some pubs, I have no doubt, will ignore the ban. There's one I frequent occasionally and I'm confident in claiming that I'm the only non-smoker in their on any given night. The thought of walking into there and finding 100+ 40-a-dayers without a white stick between their fingers just seems too surreal, but we shall wait and see.

All we can do now is look forward to the day. I might even put on of those counter things on here if I can find one.