The Howdy Boys

Resident house band "The Howdy Boys" will be providing the musical accompaniment for our Royal Wedding celebration.

Doc Valentine as the Archbishop

Asian Hottie

         In a dress rehearsal for the Royal wedding celebrations, Cook was preparing his signiature dish  of mutton stew when his dickie bow fell off into the bubbling miasma. Cook, upon retrieving the aforementioned neckwear, forgot that the previous evening, prior to a game of rugby against the Duckington Weasles, had lubricated his testicles with a liberal doseage of Fiery Jack. The residue  of this potent unction, hidden beneath Cook's fingernails and palm of his right hand added a previously unknown "twist" or "kick" to the stew.
      As a result our main course on Friday will now be Bow Tie Curry.
      (This has been a pathetic attempt to "boost traffic" and "optimize search engine awareness" by using the words "Asian Hottie". There, done it again.

Royal Honeymoon?

  This week I received an interesting phone call from a youing southern chappy named William. He imparted that he was getting hitched on Friday and did we have any accomodation available for the weekend? Upon checking the register I found that we did indeed have some vacant suites. I asked William if he'd like the Bridle. "No, I'll hold her by the hair 'til she gets used to it", he replied. Aye! Aye!

Royal Wedding Inflatable

    Plans for a bouncy castle for our Royal Wedding celebrations have been scuppered due to the cost of the insurance premiums. The alternative of asking every rugrat to crayon ina claims waiver before removing their shoes would have been to impractical. Look at all the palaver we had wi Archie's trampoline!
    Never fear, Captain. Whilst taking the scenic route through Bradford, I chanced upon an independent sex shop that wasd closing down and I managed to purchase an inflatable at a bargain price as it was slightly shop soiled. (Unfortunately the savings were cancelled out due to me having to pay double on the bus back home).
    With the addition of a long, dark wig and the netting from the defunct pingpong table in the games room, I managed to create a passable likeness of Kate Middleclass.
      Last weekend I positioned  "Our Kate" in the vegetable patch where she managed to detract several airborn predators from Cook's rocket.
    Unfortunately, due to a brisk northwesterly, she took off over the moors in the general direction of Halifax persued by Strange Bob in a scene reminiscent of the classic 1942 version of Wuthering Heights.
    To stop a repetition of this incident, "Our Kate" is now tethered in the outside gents toilet. I have also nailed an honesty box to the wall.
    On Friday the snug will be turned into Westminster Abbey. The congregation will consist of our regulars...bitter on the left, mild on the right. "Our Kate" will be taken up the aisle by Strange Bob (he's already checked that the ring fits) where she will marry our own Prince Charming, Archie Sunblest. I will be playing the Archbishop of Canterbury. Tickets £3 including pie and peas supper.
     Due to a bit of a diplomatic kerfuffle, the Crown Prince of Bahrain will not be appearing as advertised on the poster.
    

Vegetarian menu

   In an attempt to drag Blackwithers into the 20th Century and to cater for some of our weirder customers, I've told Cook to  experiment with a vegetarian menu.
   Cook's problem is that there isn't much roadkill suitable for our carrot munching friends. To date he's only collected two truffles and a mangled wurzel. 

Trawden Olympics

 I went to a cock fight in Trawden last night. I didn't even make it to the semis.

Environmental health gone...mental.

  After last weeks visit from the Environmental Health Police all the toilets in the bedrooms are now hygenically (?) sealed. So you'll have to use the washbasins instead.
  We would also ask our lady guests not to flush the 'mouse' down the toilet but use the bin at the side. This prevents any blockages and, in tune with this here re-cycling fad, means they can be used to add more realism to our Murder Mystery weekends. I thank you.

Murder Mystery Weekend

   Last month's Murder Mystery Weekend was a resounding success even though we failed to catch the culprit. (His car was later found abandoned on th'Asda carpark in Harle Syke). The body of the victim, 28 year old Cocky Singleton, was never found.
    The weekend was rounded off with a surprise appearance from Chief Inspector Courtney Baddens of the West Riding Constabulary at our farewell barbeque. The Inspector also took the main prize in the tombola which included a signet ring, a second-hand Audi Quatro and a set of luggage. Good work fella!

Same sex snogging

        Bit of a kerfuffle on licenced premises down south at the weekend. Apparently in Soho, near London, ...how shall I put this?...Two people of the same sex were chucked out of a boozer for snogging. Next day a great crowd of folk turned up in a bit of a lather.
       Well just goes to show the intolerance of the so-called sofisticated southern folk. Here at Blackwithers last Sunday lunchtime we had Roxy and Sugar putting on a bit of a show, tongues 'n' all, supported by gifted amateur Doris. A great crowd turned up and a good time was had by all. It'll be the same again this weekend coz every Sunday is Palm Sunday at Blackwithers. 60p admission, no cameras, members of St. John's Ambulance in attendance. Think on.
    

Easter telly

   Interesting  religious TV over the Easter period. On Friday there's the film "Barabbas" which is a bit like the Golgotha version of the +Factor (don't want to spoil it but Barabbas gets voted off).
     Later, by switching channels between "The Resurrection" and "The Walking Dead" you can see Jesus coming back from the dead only to be shot down by a U.S. Marshall with a pump-action shotgun. Gospel truth. (That should get the old biddies at the priory worked up. Hot, cross nuns anybody? Didn't think so.)

Alan Bennet's Underpants

      As I was engaged in changing a barrel of Devil's Hoof in the cellar, I missed the beginning of the debate but entered as it settled down with the general agreement that Alan Bennet would change his underpants on a daily basis.
      All present agreed that Alan would be supportive of the Yorkshire wool industry and wear thunderbags of said material. Our company, being familiar with the smell of wet sheep claimed this sealed the daily change agreement. In support Thin Jones added that, although forced to journey south for promotional activities, our wordsmith would not be a prolific eater of salads.
     Old Thomas, who  up to this point had been sitting silently by the fire sucking a packet of crisps, slammed his tankard down on the Space Invaders table and cried out that Alan Bennet was possibly the world's greatest living Yorkshireman and that none of the present company was fit to kiss the hem of his underpants.
      An eerie silence decended on the room, save for the ticking of the clock and the dying crackle of the charred logs in the hearth. Time seemed to stand still, apart from the aforementioned ticking. Grown men, aged before their years, looked down into their flagons and silently nodded agreement, knowing that a great truth had been spoken.
    Big Jack, swilled the dregs of his Devil's Hoof around in the bottom of his glass then, swiftly draining said glass, pushed his chair back. It scraped against the flagstones like a stone coffin being opened. He buttoned up his jerkin, re-aligned his flat cap and muttered something beneath his breath.
   "What was that?" inquired Old Thomas, "I'll have thee tongue on an oven bottom barmcake if thee said what I think thee said. Spit it out man!"
     Big Jack, with a speed that belied his Incapacity Benefit Claim, raced like a whippet to the massive oak door, struggled with the latch, but made it out into the cold, dark afternoon as the words "David Hockney" echoed through the snug like the death cries of a banshee. That's when it all kicked off...

Amnesty

    The Trawden Echo reports that the people of the village are being encouraged to hand in their banjos at the local police station today, no questions asked.

F****off!

        Andrew Flintoff's claim on twitter that the people of Burnley have 6 fingers was given this angry response.
        Also in Burnley, we hear that the Super Bowl indoor bowling alley will be closing due to poor attendance figures

hot poop!

  I was reading in the Trawden Echo this morning that when the Japs evacuated their houses due to radiation they left their dogs behind. Now there's loads of 'em roaming the streets. Anybody in the market for a watch dog with a luminous face?

Mapperley Slim

     Local cardshark Mapperley Slim has been winning again. Not difficult for Slim as he doesn't play with a full deck. Last night he won £6.50 with his 1min 35sec ticket in the Relocation, Relocation/ "Ticks all the right boxes" sweepstake.
     The Relocation, Relocation/"This cellar would make a charming S&M dungeon" sweepstake has rolled over again and currently stands at £25,764.75.

Dawn Raid!

            I hope who ever it was is proud of themselves. This morning Blackwithers was subject to a dawn raid by a bunch of jobsworths from the Environmental Health Police. Two steak and kidney pies were arrested whilst three made it out the back. Cook hid the chicken but was caught making a run for it. An apple pie was taken into custardy and a black pudding asked for his work papers. A thorough search was made of the kitchens including an intimate search of Cook's Cumberland ring. Suffice to say that all inspections lived up to our usual high standards. They had been alerted, by persons unknown ,of an irrate Mallard allegedly kept on the premises but it had turned out to be a wild goose chase. The officers quenched their thirst with several pints of our esteemed ale and vowed to catch the irresponsible time-waster. Keep up the good work fellas.

Quiet, very quiet.

     Very quiet morning here at Blackwithers. By lunchtime I hadn't sold any Old Peculiar, or anybody else for that matter. Finally the coach that goes round the local villages picking up our customers arrived. Sad Jones, the driver, explained that when he'd let them off the bus for a toilet stop in Lothersdale, the coach was besieged by folk clammering for autographs after watching "The Walking Dead" on Channel 5 last night.

Grand National

Bob "The Sage" has picked Hello Bud, Character Building and Midnight Club.  He reckons it's a three horse race. Not in my newspaper it's not, there's about fifty of the buggers. And if it's a three horse race why are Ladbrookes paying out on four places, heh? Bob reckons he's put a monkey on Character Building, which is bound to do better than the woman jockey booked to ride it in the paper.Betting? It's like that wooden tree shaped thingy in the kitchen. It's for mugs.

Boost for tourism

 In an attempt to attract more customers to Blackwithers, Soft Larry and mesen went up onto th'moors last neight and altered a few Pennine Way markers.

SOUTHERNERS

      Rumour has it that Cockhill Barn has been bought by some southerners. Apparently an offer has been put in by a couple from Bolton. They won't last. They'll be wanting all mod-cons like two-ply toilet wipe, mouthwash and a postcode.
       At least they'll be ripe for a bit of tarmaccing and the ostrich farm scam. Then we'll see 'em off. They won't be showing their carbon footprints in this pub. I'll give 'em "organic"!

A Day Out To Baxendale

     After years of unusual behaviour and a few run-ins with the men in white coats, Sticky Grenville has finally had a metal plate installed in his onion. We're glad to report that there has been a marked improvement in his mental health. He has also started a collection of fridge magnets.
     I took Grenville to the opening of the new Morrisons in Baxendale and he coped very well. There was a case of mistaken identity with one of the folk on the wet fish counter and Grenville spent a good half hour trying to outrun a row of trolleys on the car park.
     The store was opened by non-other than local thespian Fothergill Stanley who some of you might remember as an extra in Flog It! A grand day out.

No Elbow Room!

Blackwithers regular, Jack Bradshw's little lad, Tyson, was suspended from Hippleton High School for handing in his homework on time! The class had been asked to design a CD sleeve for their favorite band and Tyson loves Bury's top lads Elbow. Using a pistachio nut, olive oil (turning middle-class, Jack?!), and some of his fledgling pubic hair, Tyson placed them in the inside of his elbow to produce this stunning and thought provoking image. The head of the Art Department, Fingle Gladly, failed to see its artistic merit and suspended the poor boy. Here at Blackwithers we have started a fighting fund to take an appeal to the Court Of Human Justice to defend his right to have a bit of a laugh. This would never happen at Jamie's Dream School.

Lucky Numbers!

Often the case. We know people who have been doing it for years but Blackwithers regular Ralph Binner, on his first attempt, managed to pick all four lucky numbers in the correct order to access Babestation Extreme. "I couldn't believe it. I just randomly punched in four numbers on my remote... I can't even remember which ones!" said the lucky tosser. Stay tuned as Ralph gives us his selections for the Grand National on Saturday!

Sunday Lunch

Apologies to all who turned up to see the Heather Mills Tribute Show on Sunday lunchtime. I know some of you travelled from as far as Cliviger. Unfortunately the artiste was walking from the train station and got stuck in a cattle grid. For those who bought tickets in advance they can be redeemed at the bar minus a rule four deduction of five pence in the pound or they can be used this Sunday entertainment which features the ever popular Roxy, Sugar and talented amateur Doris. Your MC will be, as usual, Mucky Mick who has just returned from a successful holiday in Mikanos. Thanks for the postcard, Mick!