The Barman's Diaries #3

Illustrations by Grace McKenna

Wednesday 

4:30pm

I can now state beyond any reasonable doubt that society is approaching some form of collapse, why? Because I’ve just been informed that we’re going to start buying our toilet roll on TikTok. I kid you not, apparently that’s a real thing. I’ll just leave that there because a statement like that is sort of beyond analysis. 

6pm

Right, other than the sixth great extinction being upon us, there’s a decent crowd in here at the minute, so I’m being kept somewhat on my toes. There’s a fierce game of Jenga underway by the window, and what looks to me like a first date at the corner of the bar that isn’t go very well. I’m trying very hard not to eavesdrop, but I heard him ask her whether she likes chess. So unless she does, I don’t fancy his chances unfortunately.

On a commercial front, we recently replaced Tennents and Guinness with Moonwake and Murphys, which has caused no end of consternation, you’d swear we’d killed the King, although I can imagine that going down quite well now that I think about it. 

I have a new regular, let’s call him Dornoch, and his accent is so Scottish that I’m not sure he even understands himself. He comes in early and leaves before the crowd. I’ve met him a handful of times now, he sits right in front of me and we have what he might call a conversation. I’ve managed to ascertain the following: he’s certainly not pleased with what we’re calling ‘The Tennents Debacle’; that he lives in Leith; and that he looks after an elderly woman who is the bane of his life (and the cause of his Nokia 3310 going off every five minutes or so)

8pm

The light in the men's toilet has calved so the urinals are now candlelit, which makes for an oddly romantic atmosphere while you’re standing beside another man taking a pee. And if we’re in the realm of toilets, there’s more. There’s no nice way of putting this, but I’ll try. Last weekend, someone left a solid deposit of faecal matter behind them on the toilet seat. Now, I’ve surmised that this act falls into one of three categories:

1. An unprecedented lack of coordination 

2. An unprecedented level of emergency

3. An unprecedented level of drunkenness

The main thing is, I wasn’t there and so didn’t have to clean it up. Sorry for the distasteful segue, I’ll try my best to steer clear of this shit from now on. 

11pm

Phil’s just arrived, no tacos but much craic -- the man is a Father Ted machine (if you don’t know, get to know). Maybe this should become a culture corner of sorts (or a no-culture corner). Okay here we go, 4 things to read, watch or listen to according to nobody but Phil and I:

• Novel: At Swim Two Birds - Flann O’Brien

• Film: Once - John Carney

• Album: Go Further in Lightness - Gang of Youths

• Poem (if you’re arsed): History - John Burnside 

By the way, I’ve just signed up to go farming for a couple weeks in the highlands in April, so this might have to become the ‘Farmman Diaries’ for a couple of episodes. Prepare yourself for some glorious agricultural content. I’m being summoned to do a shot of red death*, don’t say I don’t take my job seriously -- it’s called quality control, alright. 

* A homemade concoction of gin, amaretto, rum, tequila, vodka and a dash of cranberry juice