” the whole of the moon” is one of slim dustys all-time favourite songs ; I hate the idea of anyone in a corporate bar even listening to it.

Anyone fancy starting an alt.country bar-night called ” horse-leg swastika ” ?….could be good but might attract some clientele who would impresse on us the need to play some Skrewdriver or a abit of Ska.

And whippet – couldn’t you have just done the manly thing and hit him from behind?

door policy – no laughing on the way in. and dont turn up sober.

dress code – the proprieter ( me) shall be the sole arbitor on the night ; some nights youll get in dressed like one of lynyrd skynyrd , some nights you wont – and will have to go home and come back dressed as a bad seed or a jayhawk circa ” hollywood town hall “. How am I supposed to know how Ill feel about what youre wearing days/weeks/months in advance?

cocktails list ? there isnt one. we only serve beer or gin.

As for why/how they choose the drivel Glasgow listens to, see below….
http://www.informaworld.com/smpp/content~content=a789799003~db=all~jumptype=rss

Hope it works.

Let me know if any of you decide to actually open a bar like this – or if you find one.

Door policy would be no-one under 25 and one check shirt per party minimum.

Dress code – see above.

Cocktails – A Tenesee Tearjerker – basically just a bottle of Jack!

LO – exactly my point. Happy to imbibe a few in an actual bar in Ireland, but hate the fakeness of these bars – I bet you don’t have Scottish Bars in Dublin, do you?!

By the holy, though, you’ll now better than to go traipsing into those sorts a dens of iniquity in the future now boyo, won’t ya?

And there wasn’t even a wee bit o’ Daniel O’Donnell to be had the whole time whilst you were there? Tis a grand shame that. A grand shame altogether.

It does beg the question, what “in the name of love” were you doing in that quim-bile infested hovel in the first place you fucking amateur?

I believe the proper etiquette in such a situation is to proclaim your superiority by hopping onto the Guinness soaked bar, dropping your kecks whilst squatting in one fluid motion to curl out a nice steamy batch of cookie dough, and that is exactly what I told the judge.

Whilst I abhor the theme pub in all its various forms I can understand their adherence to the sheeples mantra, it’s a numbers business and until such a time as “When I am king, you will be first against the wall” and all those fuckwits are rounded up and shot, they will continue to frequent the temples of tat.

Do yourself a favour and find yourself a boozer which plays the kind of music you like, there aren’t all that many but the ones there are, are filled with like-minded sensible folk who will be running the new order and standing next to you as you pump round after round into Burberry.

Toodles