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He didn't get where he is today by stealing somebody else's catchphrase.

Brown

I went out with a few friends tonight, to a pub that I can't remember having visited for at least ten years. It didn't look any different at all, although if you were being patronising you'd say it hadn't lost any of it's "rustic charm". The building looked a little bit down on it's luck.

It once had a small brewery, which produced some good beer - but that had long disappeared. The chipboard-esque ceiling was still there, although it was now a lot browner and the wiring looked ropey. All was covered in a film of brown from years of smoke. When the barman said that one of the lights didn't work, I wondered whether he was just too skint for a new bulb, or whether he couldn't afford rewiring. I guessed it was probably both.

In the corner, farmers chatted at length on the subject of shit, followed by a debate on how to kill a rabbit. I learnt something new. I could count the amount of customers on two hands and have a few fingers left over. It was a very quiet Sunday night.

On the plus side, it had a bar-billiard table, operated by inserting coinage from the United Arab Emirates. It's a game I haven't played since my lazy days in the sixth form common room, so that made it all good. It was a fun, sociable evening.

And I still suck at the game - no change there, either.
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