Just before my talk at Ottakars in Bury St Edmunds the other night I popped into The Nutshell for a quick pint to steady my nerves. Measuring just 15ft by 7ft it claims to be the smallest pub in Britain. Not only is there barely enough room to swing a cat, there’s a dead one hanging from the ceiling. It was found bricked in behind the chimney hearth during building works apparantly.
I was joined by Tim, an American tourist from Oregon, and George, a local bloke with his fly undone who engaged in a lively debate with the barman about writing in space with pens and pencils and the difference between ‘Twisters’ and ‘Tornados’. (He wasn’t having it that they were one and the same.) He left the bar claiming that all the best American actors were British.
‘Stan Laurel, he was English you know,’ he slurred as he stumbled up the stairs to the broom closet that doubles as the toilet.
Later at Ottakars a local chap called Mike told me that there was a small village nearby that was so inbred that all the inhabitants have a unique form of Haemophilia.
I’ve got a feeling George might be one of them.
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But Stan Laurel was english? Born Stanley Jefferson in Ulverston in Cumbria for what it’s worth. Last time I passed the Nutshell I fancied a pint there, but there were already three people in, and I value my personal space. Maybe it would be advisable to book.
what’s “haemphilia”? silly.
Hey George – it’s a spelling mistake! Thanks for pointing it out.