Happy hour seems like a long time ago
Now it turns out that Rachel didn’t have a licence to run the New Austerity Inn
Don’t worry said the Big Boss from the Brewery
We all make mistakes
And while the beer is stale
and the punters are depressed
they all come in for a warm-up
this time of year
What they gonna do?
Go to the ‘Spoons?
Rachel’s in tears behind the bar of The New Austerity Inn. The boss at the brewery has refused to say if he’ll keep her on or not and the local paper’s got hold of the story.
Against all odds, the locals are rallying round. They might not have forgiven her for trying to chase the old folk out who’d just come in for a bit of warmth during the winter, but it’s their pub, nonetheless, and their loyalty means that the books are starting to look slightly better.
The beer is still awful, mind you.
Happy hour is over.
Rachel surveys the thinning crowd from behind the bar of The New Austerity Inn. “I thought it would be better than this,” she says to no one in particular.
The locals have taken to calling her “Rachel the Barmaid”. They don’t think that she’s qualified to run the pub on her own. She might have pinned her certificate to the wall, but she’s still done nothing about the dire offering on tap.
Meanwhile, outside the Wetherspoons, a man in mustard trousers hides a glass of Chablis behind “a pint of your finest ale”, lights a cigarette, and waits.
Steve White & The Protest Family 