The Fine Lasses Of Hartlepool
The Rough And The Smooth
It can be said of most towns and cities in the country that
there is wide distribution in the standard and class of the bewer that
inhabits the local pub/wine bar/nightclub on a weekend. Hartlepool is no
exception to this rule but the bewers of Hartlepool have their own particular
traits. Let me introduce some of the fundamentals;
The Temperature Inversion Law
It is an unwritten rule, and this can be applied to the lads
as well of the town although to a lesser extent, that the colder the weather,
the less clothes the bewer must feel obliged to wear. It is not uncommon
to see in the middle of winter, bewers walking around in next to nowt.
Bold as brass as they make their way from the council estates of the far
corners of the town into the centre, the sight of hoards of Hartlepool
lasses making their way to prestigious nightspots such as Oscars and Bogarts
wine bars wearing one outfit between six of them is not uncommon.
|
Brazen northern totty chase down
Paul Gasgoine at the Newcastle v Middlesbrough
game last Sunday. This was actually a cunning plan
by Bryan Robson to test Gazza's fitness.
The Bewer-Drink Price Rule
There is a simple rule for determining the quality of the
bewer in a pub in Hartlepool and that is to simply ask the barman what
the price of a pint of StrongArm is. Asking the price of
a pint of Strongarm not only tells you what the price of your round is
going to cost but also the standard of the bewer in the place is going
to be like; ie a dogs dinner or the dogs bollocks. The more expensive the
pint, the better the bewer, simple really.
The Over 25 Rule
The Over 25 rule states that once a bewer in Hartlepool reaches
the grand old age of 25, she seemingly disappears from the social scene
and starts a one parent family. Why this is is a mystery, but my investigations
lead me to believe Happy Hours in the Doom &
Gloom nightclub on a Saturday and Friday nights may have something
to do with it.
After a 16 year absence from the social scene (or the
admittence of the bairn to a young offenders institute), the said bewer
then resumes her social life, by frequenting the Princess
Helena Pub down in Whitby Street.
Orange Tango
The fact that summer finishes in Hartlepool at the start
of July does not mean to a select number of Hartlepool bewers that the
sun has gone away for yet another year. Thanks to establishments such as
the Tanning Shop. Hartlepool Bewers can retain that healthy orange
glow all year round. Some bewers are so keen that they have there own private
tanning bed within the confines of their own home where they dutifully
burn themselves to fuck for two hours every night. The result is frightening
as when you are quietly enjoying your pint on the veranda of the Fly 'n
Jug watching the wimmin hurdle the pedestrian barrier, when a bloody great
Jaffa Orange walks into the room. Orange people usually wear matching luminous
orange tops and trousers just in case there is a blind bloke in the room
who hasnt had his retinas burnt out. Most Hartlepool folk arent bothered
with this behaviour, and it seems to be restricted to the clientele of
Bogarts winebar and 42 Street which to me at least seem like posing palaces.
Avoid at all costs on your grand tour of Hartlepool.
Gan'
to home