Why I Hate the Pub

I hate going to pubs. I really, really hate it. I hate it for many reasons - I don't really drink so I find it boring, I don't especially like being stuck driving drunk people home and I don't really like the horrible smell of stale beer and cigerettes.

However, I hated going to the Norseman local pub more than most other pubs. I hated it so much that I generally refused to go there unless in the company of a male. I hated almost everything about the local pub except perhaps for the lovely ladies who work behind the bar and the delicious pizzas that they serve.

So what, I hear you ask, could cause a vivacious young lady like myself to keep away from a simple country pub? Well I'll tell you - the men! The local pub is like a gathering point for every crude, undersexed and underwhelming man in the town. Now, I'm not saying that every single man in the pub is a hideous pulsating mutant; there are some lovely guys who hang out there...it's just that unfortunately most of my experiences there involved rather unlikeable drunken troglodytes.

Several nasty things have happened to me at the pub while I lived in Norseman. There was the incident where one of the local stray dogs attacked me while I stood screaming outside the pub, banging on the windows for help. No one helped. They just kept drinking and watched with this glazed look in their eyes.

Or there was the time that a drunken man climbed into my car and asked to go back to my house. Or the time when I got surrounded by drunken miners outside the pub, none of which would let me get through so I could go to my car.

I could go on forever, but my favourite incident at the pub has got to be the time when a man bought me a drink despite me telling him that I didn't want one. I'll let the cartoon speak for itself...

So ends the tale of why Lena hates the Norseman pub!

Now for something completely different...