“No Tie” policy strictly enforced in Down Under bar

As a half-joke, the Down Under bar in Brisbane has a dress policy that states “No ties; No Workboots; No work clothes after 7:30pm”.

So a couple of suits were asked to remove their ties.  One took it in the right spirit, but his friends thought that discretion was the better part of WEAK and decided to test the resolve of security.

Bad move.  The otherwise lovely and friendly staff had no truck with the obnoxious suits and dispatched them haste.

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Long absence explained by Castle Age addiction

I had everything going for me when I started the blog:

  • Interesting subject matter
  • time
  • fast Internet access
  • slightly inflated sense of one’s importance
  • sufficient alcohol to dis-inhibit the creative process but not so much as to turn very post into drunk-dial nightmare.
Then I discovered Castle Age on FriendFace.  It rendered me incapable of spending time on the Internet that was not devoted to Castle Age.  The addiction was not without its charms, just like any other addiction.  As Oliver Reed said on Aspel and Company (voted 90th most popular television moment by Channel 4 viewers) “[I drink because] I have met he most wonderful people in pubs.”
In order to get ahead with Castle Age one must build an army.  One may only recruit from one’s friends.  So one must accept all manner of people who wish to “friend” one for no other reason than to build their army.
  • If you wonder why so few of my real friends want to join my army… I wonder too.
So the 2 skinheads with a pathological dislike of Barack Obama have un-friended me, perhaps in response to my “Like” of same, “Jon Stewart” and such FriendFace groups.  Isn’t it a shame when people can’t put aside their ideological differences to help slay dragons together.  😦

Asked for ID? You flirty bastard

Asking me for ID before entering a pub?  Me, the oldest person in the place?  At least he is being thorough.  Perhaps.

I’m in Brisbane for a few more days, delivering production support.  Last week I was here to deliver training.  So naturally I like to spend my travel allowance wisely.  Where wiser than the local backpacker bar.

Would you believe $10 for a plate of food and a pint of beer?  Considering that a normal main starts at $11 (which is hardly highway robbery) $10 for food + beer is tops.

Naturally, I’ve been here every night last week and this week.

Only today, the night of Melbourne Cup Day, have I been asked for ID.  I’m 195cm and 110kg.  Last time I was asked for ID I showed my learner’s licence (I learnt to drive at 19, OK!)

I don’t mind too much if someone asks for ID.  The fact that he asked me shows that he door bitch had the right amount of confidence.  I used to work in a bottle shop and when we asked for ID we didn’t take no answer for an answer.

But before I showed my interstate licence I had to ask how old he thought I was.  After some hesitation he said “28?”  Not bad for a 41-year-old.

Then I thought… what a flirt!  🙂  Then I thought… maybe I should stop dressing like a teenager, sad git.