An exceptionally enjoyable day was reportedly had by all at the Adrian Flux golf day on Wednesday this week. The whole thing was meticulously well-run, down to the laying on of improbably perfect weather for an event that ran like clockwork, of the expensive Swiss variety, which generally runs pretty well on the whole.
Bankstone’s Dickon Tysoe has been chuckling contentedly ever since over the freshly recollected delights of the meal he enjoyed noisily and enthusiastically at King’s Lynn’s charming Riverside Restaurant. This consisted, he appeared to be saying of Arbroath Smirkys, followed by Seed Baps, with an Orange Moose to finish. Fairly exotic, readers will probably agree.
Without wishing to introduce too flagrant a note of self-congratulation, it is gratifying none the less to report that Bankstone’s own Andrew “El Bandido” Jones ended up ranking as the third best individual, walking away, a little unsteadily, with a splendid laser-cut glass trophy and one of those new Sony handheld Vita thingys – so named because these enthralling devices can quite literally take the place of the user’s life.
So successful was the day that no-one present could possibly have wished to be anywhere else – with the possible partial exception of one Cris Jackson, who discovered on the day that his favourite band (lovely guy, shocking taste in music) The Stone Roses (tone deaf roses, more like, if you ask Bankstone News. Call that singing? You’re an embarrassment, Mate! Or was that Madness? etc…) were playing a free gig in a park half a mile from Jackson Towers in erstwhile UK Vodka Mecca Warrington.
Tysoe relates that Jackson bravely attempted to put a brave face on his disappointment by regaling fellow golfers with a succession of hilarious jokes and anecdotes. Decency forbids the repetition here of his many lurid tales on the general theme of unnatural erotic practices and extravagant sexual excess. To bulk up the tail end of this story a bit, we may at least have a stab at mangling his defty told tale of a visit to Ireland and the sampling of a local speciality.
A stranger to the darkly bitter delights of Ireland’s national stout, Jackson decided upon first visiting Dublin to order a pint of the stuff. “A pint of Guinness, My Man, and be quick about it,” he doubtless barked, little realising the strong Gaelic aversion to rapidity in matters of quaffage.
“Would you be wanting it long drawn or short drawn?” the barman enquired. Upon seeking an immediate explanation for this gobbledigook, Jackson learned that long drawn involved pouring a small amount of the velvety brew into a glass, allowing this to settle, adding a little more, letting that settle, and repeating the process again and again until at last the glass is full.
“Sure, your long drawn is the ancient way, traditional and best,” the barman assured Mr Jackson. Short drawn, he explained dismissively is the simple vulgar process of filling the glass once, allowing its contents to settle, then topping up. Determined to sample his pint at its best (and to ascertain whether it tasted any less foul in its native habitat – as reputedly it might – than it had back in the UK), CJ opted for the long drawn method.
The barman nodded approvingly, adding: “And would you be wanting a short drawn while you wait?”