September 20th, 2001

It's a cow, Jim, but not as we know it

Last night proved just how crap The Railway has got. We might complain that the Mow has gone down hill, but it's got a long way to catch up. Case in point - I go to the bar and order some "beef" crisps only to be told they don't sell any. Thinking for a moment, I remember that the exact phrasing on the McCoy's packets says "steak", so I try that instead. As if by magic a packet appears from under the bar. I can't tell if the barmaid was stupid or just awkward - next minute she'll be saying they don't sell coke, only pepsi.

As far as I can tell, she's only got the job cos she appears to be in some way connected to the new manager - who ain't exactly firing on any cylinders either. Neither of them appear to want to be there, so I don't see why they bother. When they come round to clear away rubbish and stuff, they leave half of it on the table for the other moderately clever barmaid to deal with.

Blah. As soon as the Rock night finds another venue the better.

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