what youd expect in B-right-on....

Now the pit stop of discerning Kemptowners is
the Golden Cannon. A scruffy nicotine soaked local
pub for local people where gangsters mix amicably
with shirtlifters and we all pretend to get on in a manly
sporty kind of way. The bald fat landlord watches over
this motley crew and often calls you a cab if you get to
loud. We call him a c~nt !
There are of course some great characters in there.
And one of them is called Ron. A large hairy man who
likes wearing womans clothing, and a large blonde wig.
He sits on two chairs at the end of the bar. He (she? )
has a gravelly voice a la Mike Reid in Eastenders. A
normal exchange would go something like this...
" Whatcha Ron ! you OK ? "
" Not bad geezer....howse your luck ?
" Yeh good thanks Ron....lovely dress..very summery ! "
" Yeh ...Laura ashley....bit worried that the floral design
makes me look a bit like a poof .....what do you think ..?"
" Not a bit of it ...Ron..."
" Less of the Ron sunshine....from now on I want you
to call me Jenny...."
Its so surreal and funny ....it puts you in a good mood
until the nasty landlord calls you a cab.
I normally occupy the gnarled sofa at the back of the
pub so the memsahib cant see me through the broken windows.
I have a limited range of conversation about womans clothing
so its best not to show this lack of knowledge. Im more up on
football ( should Stan Bowles go to Gamblers Anonymous ? )
and sex ( should clitorises be signposted ? ) and philosophy
( does chewing gum lose its flavour on the bed post over night ).
I normally express my views to a confused group of small time
crooks in the corner. I then like to sing a couple of old Welsh
folks songs while Im waiting for the cab. It seems to jolly things
a long a bit.
Its a marvellous institution....the local battle cruiser...
pop in for a pint.....