The Jug, the bar built on to the Prince Regent.
The snooty wifie who owned it asked me one night when she deigned to pour beer for us in the bar, said, “I know you from somewhere. Were you at school with my son?”
“Nae unless he went to Keith Grammar” was my reply, “But I deliver yer hotel laundry every day”. She looked as crestfallen at having to speak to a working class drunk as Margot did in The Good Life when there was a rumour that a co-operative commune was buying a hoose in their street.
[Thread only revived since I searched for forum drummer Elginred to get his view on skin skelper supreme Charlie Watts’s death].



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