The Black Horse, Wednesbury

From the moment I entered the Black Horse public house, I knew that I was in for a great evening of drunken entertainment.. With an array of "Good Ole" Black Country beers, ales, lagers, and ciders on offer, along with the purfick bar snack immaginable. Which included KVE rots, planters peanuts with the unforgetable botty belch flaerver, Cream crackers with a dairy lee cheese slice and silverskin sweet pickled onions... mmmm heaven is nigh... As i was trying out the various drinks, i noticed that they also sold the one and only "Barley Wine" and as the infamous saying goes, "Size is no guarantee of strength" i kiddy laughed to myself knowing that i would be ending up on the "Old Maids" (not to be confused with the old maids fun card game that could be purchased from any good newsagent of the early 1970s)..... the night was young and the breww XI was going down nicely... I noticed that the seating of the hostelry was covered in a beatiful red crushed velour fabric which only added to the thought of me wanting to get even more "Elephants Trunk" and no, not Mr. Stuart Fowlers nether regions.... so the witching hour was upon me... time to get on the big guns... So as I went to the bar gingerly, i nervousley asked for a can of Barley Wine, and even though i was 19yrs of age, the Burly pub landlord looked at me somewhat bemused as to why a verrr fat verrr smelly greazy yewth wanted to drink such a potent drink at 7 45 in the evening... and to be quite honest...i wish that i hadnt, as after a futher three cans of the stuff, my stomach juices started to swirl and i ended up wretchin my entire contents of beer filled fuel all over the pub pool table.... and as everyone in the pub was looking at me in sheer horror, it was only then that i noticed that there was the pub league pool table final to be held there tonight on the said table... and as the pub landlord filled the air with what i xcan only describe as language that i didnt even know about.... yewsh yewsh yewsh indeed....

30 Jul 2014 09:21

Ye Olde Leathern Bottel, Wednesbury

Upon checking the history books of the local area, I noticed that the notorious "Dandy Highway Man" of the seventeeth century Dick Turpin,
Not to be confused with the Dandy Highwayman of the early 1980s Adam Ant.
It was also said that Mr. Turpin used to enjoy his stays at the hostelry and amongst some of the loveable rogues antics was a case of eating a chicken drumstick that he had just ripped from the carcase of a "Little Chicken" and again not to be confused with the saying from the great Hussain Chaffaker who could easily hit you with a piece of chalk thrown from a hundred yards across the classroom. Mr. Turpin's christian name "Dick" was very fitting for the man as it was often rumoured that upon his arrival to the olde coaching inn he would surely be drinking copious amounts ale from a pewter tankard and sinking drinking songs with the gentry from the town of Wednesbury or"Wodensbourgh" as it was often reffered to in anglo saxon times.
Dick, after drinking many ales would frequently stagger to his sleeping quarters followed closely by one or two busty flaxen haired younge wenches for a night of ill repute and sorid activities.
I would just like to add that unfortunately it wasnt like that when I visited the hostelry to re-enact tha famous heady days of the "Dandy Highwayman" Dick Turpin.
My encounter was a pint of mild in a glass, a packet of dry roast peanuts followed by a bag of Yampi Fries.
And after drinking several pints of the local Black Country Grog, the heavily built lady that was serving from behind the bar suddenly started to look more appealing.. just as i thought my luck was in, and perhaps i would be following in the footsteps of the Highway man rogue, i started to feel a little dizzy and had to rush into the gents where i continued to vomit into the cold white porcelain bowl.

20 Jul 2014 09:00

The Myvod, Wednesbury

The English music charts over the years have produced some of the finest tunes in the land... when you have such wonderful music as Plantet Earthe by Dran Dran nik nik , si le bo, rodger the dodger etc..... and the brilliant masterpiece from the early 1980s band The Skids, titled "Albert Tatlock" sucks his.....
And who could ever forget the classic song "small cheroot, black hat, cold eyes.... Malpaso man... from the ever so fashionable most underrated New Romantic group Visage... With Steve Strange and Rusty Egan fronting the culture beat youth craze...
Often played at the Pigott arms where you would be able to hear tunes like Changeling were changeling for you.... da de da da da da... da da da dum... and slap that bloody floor whilst feeling like a younge Jim kerr...
With VIP gusts like Porky, "not to be confused with porky prime cut" often seen frequenting the hotest new romantic bar in town...
If however you wanted a little something more underground, there was always the 5th nightclub where you could easily take two small mirrors onto to the dance floor whilst the 12" version of bedsitter by Soft Cell would be playing like a frenzied crescendo and as the tunes rang in your ears, you could try to catch a laser or two with the said mirrors and turn the dance into an amazing robotic symphony just like the robotic masters of the time " Tik and Tok".....

18 May 2014 16:38