DEFENDING MY CASTLE FROM ASSAULT
Great leaders are not always popular leaders. Tough decisions sometimes need to be made and they don’t always endear you to your countrymen, but what the peasants don’t realize is that we make those decisions to give them better lives. Tonight I learnt what it must have felt like for Maggie Thatcher being in office. People just don’t understand the plans of a superior mind.
It was 10pm and as Bertie had warned, a crowd of Karaoke loving losers came stomping up towards the entrance, singing their heads off (badly), all screaming with excitement about what terrible song they wanted to murder first. There must have been about forty of the feckers at least. Unfortunately this drunken rabble had forgotten all about their plan to boycott the pub so I ran as fast as possible to get to them before they even stepped foot into my palace and informed them loud and clearly that I was in charge now and Karaoke was cancelled FOREVER! For the uproar that greeted me, you would have thought I had shat on their babies’s heads. Clint came running up to me and asked what the hell I was doing. I told him to feck off and not to question me in front of the lower classes. The little shit then ran off upstairs to my parents’ bedroom and told my father what I had done.
I was sitting at the bar, quite pleased at the disaster I had just averted when my father came racing down stairs in his underwear, bawling his head off at me, in front of everyone! He has absolutely no idea how to run a business and clearly demonstrated that tonight! I tried to explain that by loosing a few tawdry customers, you will actually gain a lot more elegant clients. Once the word is out that I have swept away the filth, the decent fringes of society will come pouring in, bringing with them all of their lovely money. Did he listen, no! Instead he threw on a coat and without a shred of dignity, chased after the tacky posse of wannabe singers down the road. Ten minutes later he came back with a bald headed hunchback with a demented smile and a woman the size of a child whose eyes and teeth looked as if they were trying to escape from her hideously ugly face. Before you could say Jim’ll fix it, Clint had manned the karaoke set the previous landlord had left behind and the gruesome twosome were on the stage, introducing themselves as Dicky and Elaine, then launching into ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams. I almost cried as I realized that I would no longer be able to listen to that beautiful song in the same way ever again.
I was so angry that I was almost tempted to have a pint of lager but I took a hold of myself and remembered that I was not a part of the underclass.
Tonight didn’t end on a completely sour note however. After most of the staff had left, me and Curly were having a laugh with the new digital camera my Dad bought yesterday for the pub. We were taking pictures of each other pulling karate poses, basically taking the piss out of the chef who thinks he is something he isn’t. Miller tried to join in but he was so drunk he smacked Curly right in the face and knocked him spark out. Luckily for Curly our barmaid Bertha knew first aid and she made sure he was alright.
I’ve come to bed now so that I can begin work on my presentation for tomorrow’s meeting. Miller’s gone out with Clint down town and I’ve left a sozzled Curly downstairs with Bertha.