​NEWCASTLE PUBS

The Class War starts here.....

 

Call me a miserable twat, but I hate, really fucking hate the collection of posh twats who line up in Tokyo for for cocktails and and post work chardonnay. Ill mannered braying accountants and trainee solicitors crawl in for a glass of crucifyingly expensive booze before they spend the evening reading Country Life or Posh Twat Gazette.

 

Last night we went off to the cashpoint, took out a second mortgage and braced ourselves for the inevitable 4 quid a pint bill. I can live with expensive beer if it's good, and Edelweiss wheatbeer is very good. Tokyo has one of the nicest smoking areas in Newcastle, though it's a bit of a shock when the downstairs bar is filled with last night's bins and it takes the edge of the upmarket sheen that this place has trowelled on, like a fat lass with too much make up.

 

Now I come from the English schoolboy school of manners, yes sir, excuse me, would you mind if we took all of your seats away so our posh friends can invade your space. Not the posh totty that landed in front of us. Seats lifted up and carried away so so a group of overpaid estate agents could plonk themselves down and start hoovering up chardonnay. However, I did almost piss my trousers when gin martinis were ordered and they almost threw up their pret a manger sandwiches. You're not that sophisticated then are you pet ? Why not pop off to the Stereo, the scumfest operated and occasionally opened by this shower, more your style, it's shut and full of tramps but they'll let you swig from their frosty jacks