Thursday, November 27, 2008

Last Saturday I went for a drinkie or two at my local pub as it was the occasion of my Birthday. Most of the evening was wonderful fun and involved friends, wine, balloons, cards, creamy liqueurs and a space hopper, but having a party in a public place means that one runs the risk of something going fucked wrong.
Among the customers was a friend of mine who was rather the worse for wear due to alcohol by the time I arrived, and over the next hour or so each shout of 'Oi, Misty, Happy Birthday!' became increasingly slurred.
Next we know, the chap's passed out on the floor and no amount of kicking trying to rouse him has brought him round again.
After putting him in the recovery position I checked his pulse and found it was below 60 which was rather slow for my liking so after a quick check with another friend of his who had tried to revive him, we decided to call an ambulance.
I went outside to make the call and after giving the details and so went back in too see how he was doing.
There was still no change but for some reason the barmaid had started shouting at my friend and telling him (and when I came back in, me as well) to get him out, and not to call for an ambulance as she didn't want any trouble.
As calmly as I could I explained that as the bloke was unconscious, it would be very unwise to pull him out into the street which was extremely cold, being winter and so, and that the ambulance was on it's way already.
Once again she screamed at me to get him out as she didn't want the police turning up.
I told her that to my knowledge, nobody had called the police, but still she carried on yelling like a harpie at us.
Fortunately the ambulance turned up after about five minutes, and after checking him over stretchered him out to the ambulance. I told the ambulance chap what 'first aid' the barmaid had prescribed and you can imagine the reply he gave me.
I went to the ambulance with him to give them as much info I could about him and when I got back I found out that the barmaid was worried that the police would take her licence away as he was drunk and incapable on 'her' premises and she had been in charge while he'd been drinking there, all afternoon it transpired.
So, she had been to blame for getting him into that state it seems, but if I and my friend hadn't been there, he might well have simply been dumped outside the pub in the cold and on his own.
I'm beginning to dislike the owners of my old local a little bit less every time I go there, and I'm not alone.
Knowing that if I was in need of an ambulance that could happen to me doesn't make me over keen on drinking there much, and it shouldn't be that way in a pub.
Anyway, every time I walk past the place there are fewer customers in there, so hopefully it will just be a matter of time before the locals get a decent management in again.
I can only live in hope.
Sign outside the Duke of York.