'Another beer, sir?'

‘What can I get you?’
were the words that dribbled from his stupid mouth.

‘Pint of mild,’
came the stereotypical retort.

‘I’m afraid we’re out of Mild today sir,
we have Hobble’s Crotch,
Gentleman’s Relish,
Piglet Power,
Apricot Shandy-pie,
Hampshire Porter,
Goose Greene,
Turnbuckle
and Borstal Bitter.’

‘You made two of those up didn’t you?’

‘I made them all up sir, this is a pharmacy. Here is your Diazepam, now can you please leave.’

I waited and thought... ‘nice trick son.’
‘Whiskey and ginger you cruel fuck.’



The cold, damp embrace, of the kerb outside the pharmacy.