What kind of lawyer do you need? A lawyer with attitude. A can-do attitude. But what kind of lawyer is that? Let’s see.
Ah yes, this kind of lawyer. Who are these guys?
Of course. Got it.
A while ago, Ian “Mac Mac Mac Mac” McIver took a voyage to foreign lands and returned with a gift beyond compare: a selection of five Czech cereal bars of various colours and flavours. What better introduction could there be to Central European cuisine?
We’ve been so excited to try them that we’ve actually spent quite some time waiting for the perfect opportunity to stage a Tasting Ceremony. You know the kind of thing: a full, formal occasion where the participants ritually dress in the colour of the food they are Ceremonially Tasting, bring similarly coloured gifts and offerings, and solemnly share in the sublime pleasure of sampling new foods. Between courses, a discussion is held about the food that has been enjoyed, and prayers are said.
Anyway, we finally managed to clear a day in our diary, and I’m pleased to present to you the full results of our first ever Corny Big feast.
Back in February, you might remember I found myself in a terrible situation, and had to make three posts in a day. To warn everyone about this daring and hazardous act, I posted an Emergency Bean Grab Warning. It was only fair.
Ian was unimpressed, telling me in the comments that it was the worst fairytale he’d ever heard. But I took his criticism on board, and together we workshopped a much better fairytale about my February bean. He then insisted that I draw some pictures so we could get it published and make our fortune.
While I haven’t yet started negotiations with publishers, I am now pleased to share the finished artwork, which includes everything in Ian’s fairytale wish list: Medieval Europe, savagery, a misogynistic male Prince character, a plucky young sidekick named Ian, reaction shots of Ian, a friendly animal helper, bad weather, and some sort of woman.
I present to you Crich5156’s February Bean Grab: The Fairytale: The Graphic Novel.
I woke up the other morning and felt genuinely sad that the dream I’d just had wasn’t real.
It was about a TV show, you see. I think in my head somewhere was the memory of my recent discovery that The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is now being remade as a serious Netflix-style drama called Bel-Air, now in its second series of ten glossy hour-long episodes with spectacular production values, grappling with issues of racial tension and culture shock. Well, my brain said, if you can make a big-budget serial drama out of the Fresh Prince, you can do anything.
After careful consideration, I have decided that perhaps my first effort of Chris wafting into Europe with his business ideas was not completely on point meaning that a revision was on the cards.
I have therefore gone back and drafted a whole new version to unleash upon those unsuspecting Europeans. Boy, they don’t know what’s about to be shoved up their viso / voltos.
I feel as though I have got the likeness that was lacking in Chris version 1.0 and with the inclusion of a monobrow and a more jovial facial expression I have addressed the criticisms of comments past.
What’s left then is to bask in the joys of my efforts before the balloon can set sail in the morning.
Hello patrons of ‘Sleazy like a Sunday Morning’ (Nantwich).
We would like to thank you for your years, months, weeks or even minutes of patronage. Every time you walk through that door you help me and the girls out such a great deal.
You may or may not be aware that we have recently had a refurbishment and changed certain parts of the club to bring everything more up to date, an aesthetic sheen that hasn’t been seen since the turn of the century. I loved the previous look but I wanted to show a different side to Sleazy’s. After a few meetings with the business partners we decided on two very different looks: one that was modern, sleek and sexy and the other that was sexy, old, and gothic.
The dancefloor and booths are still there, you need not worry. They have been deep-cleaned and bleached to within an inch of their lives. Voice-activated sensors have been added to the toilets so when you say, “flush” the urinals will flush. The bar stools have had a new height of seat added to them (big high!) for those who are vertically-challenged.
The extension at the back, however, is where the temperature has really been cranked up. Have you ever had fantasies about being a knight, a jester or even a king in medieval England? Now you can indulge as much as you want in ‘Ye B-olde England’, the sexiest thing to come out of Nantwich since Thea Gilmore started writing music. We have everything: ale, shouting, stripping, girls, mead, laughter, outfits, dysentery, ornamental owls, women, private parties, stocks and much, much more. If you really want to prove your worth then you need to pick up your sword (not a euphemism) and try to slay the Slaggon™, a mechanical dragon who is giving out everything as long as the price is right. I have built everything myself and I stand by my efforts and the choice of my customers to do what they like (within reason) for a reasonable price.
What I will not stand for though is theft. I have recently discovered that the sign for our new event has been stolen by one of those themed restaurants in the neighbouring town of Crewe. They deliberately took our sign, knowing that it was the wrong one, to drum up interest for their business. They made up some phoney baloney story about being sent the wrong sign to curry favour and get more punters through the door. I hear that they’re doing a roaring trade as a result of this. To begin with I was nice about it and requested the sign be returned only to be met with indifference and mild threats.
The Slaggon™ does exist, and she is ready to take you on whenever you’re ready, but only at my establishment. I want you to know that personally, therefore I take the time to reiterate the following:
The sign is yet to be returned. For now let us all have a drink, maybe a dance, and hope that it will be returned. It is, after all, the principle of the matter more than anything else. Cheers!
Ever since I saw the place over the weekend it’s all I can think about.
Hello patrons of Willie’s Blazin’ Wagons Wild West restaurant (Crewe).
Thank you for taking the time to read this notice. It means a lot to all of us.
You may or may not be aware that we have recently had a refurbishment and changed certain parts of the restaurant to fit the aesthetic more. Such a change has not occurred since the first Blazin’ Wagons restaurant opened in Wrexham in 1987.
The toilets are now unisex so you don’t need to decide between ‘partdners’ and ‘partdnistas’. All doors are now saloon doors for that authentic Western look. Originally we had a salad bar although that did not seem special enough so this was upgraded to a brand new Salad Wagon(TM). Sadly there was a mistake made at the printing company which was not picked up by an employee until three days later after it had already been out on the restaurant floor.
If you have seen or heard any references to a ‘Slaggon’ then please disregard these and cast them from your mind. The ‘Slaggon’ does not exist, and if it does, it is not what you think it is.
We have had repeated phone calls from both men and women for their respective stag and hen do’s to engage with the ‘Slaggon’ and we have had to be firm on the matter. We therefore reiterate the following:
The sign has since been replaced and yet we are still subjected to numerous requests. Please, we are a respective family business and do not desire this level of unwanted attention. Management reserves the right to refuse service to anyone who cannot take the hint. We trust this is satisfactory and hope you enjoy your time at Willie’s Blazin’ Wagons Wild West (Crewe) restaurant.