SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

The Song Challenge:   The Mother Of All Excuses -- A pub landlord has developed the perfect defence for the post-work tippler who needs an excuse for being late home - a phone booth which adds authentic sound effects to any drinker's excuse for being late home.   Colin Benham, who runs the Travellers Joy in Rayleigh, Essex, first built a traditional-style red kiosk by hand.   He then added a selection of digitally recorded background noises, from a busy railway station to a bustling office and a noisy traffic jam.  Regulars now have the opportunity of ringing loved ones with a choice of excuses ranging from "the boss wants me to stay late at the office" to "you wouldn't believe the traffic I'm stuck in" . . . while Mr Benham pours the next round.  Mr Benham, who has no immediate plans to develop his invention, said yesterday: "It's the perfect answer to avoid those 'your dinner's in the dog' situations. I've got a CD with everything from traffic jam noise to the sound of a supermarket. It started off as an April Fool's joke but it has taken off like you wouldn't believe."  Drinkers simply request the bar staff to play a particular sound effect which is relayed through a speaker fixed inside the kiosk, and the rest is down to the caller's conscience. The landlady, Bernadette Williams, said there had been reports of the system being used for marginally more nefarious purposes, possibly involving bosses and secretaries.  She said: "There has been some talk of that kind of thing but overall we think it's a nice invention, and it's not just used by men. We built it ourselves because, being close to the railway station, we heard one or two people mention they had to leave because their dinner was ready when they really could have done with another pint.  "What happens is you get to unwind in the pub before you go home which puts you in a much better frame of mind, particularly if your partner thinks you've had an arduous time coming home. It makes for a much more harmonious evening."  The assistant manager, Tim Burchill, added: "Basically it gives you the perfect excuse to stay for that last pint, or five." Of course, too many drinks and the person on the other end of the line could be wondering what a train is doing in a supermarket . . .

The Bar Played "Trains In The Night" by Amos
(Tune:  The Band Played Waltzing Matilda)  {Click to Play}

Now when I was a young man I followed me nose 
And I lived life however I wanted 
From the cubes at the office to the dusty saloons, 
With my pals I would travel, undaunted. 
But when but three-and-twenty, I met my sweet Joan, 
And she made me stop rambling, and made us a home. 
And gave me a baby and gave me a list 
And she generally gave me what-for.

And the bar played "Trains in the Night", 
As I left all that friendship and beauty; 
And I'd bid my mates "Cheers", left them nursing their beers, 
And I sailed home to tend to me duty.

And how well I remember when our second was born, 
And the doctor had said "It's a daughter" 
While Joannie was resting, I stopped at the corner 
From some strength from their best fire-water 
My mates was all there, and they made me feel swell 
They showered me with drinks, and had long tales to tell, 
When I finally called in, I was drunker than hell, 
And the phone was picked up by her mother.

And the bar played "Trains In the Night", 
As I hastily made my excuses, 
And her mum could hear plainly the 'chuff' of the trains, 
And the rattle of ancient cabooses.

By the time Tod was ten it had happened again, 
More than once, as I slowly went bonkers 
And I'd leave Joan at home, taken in by the phone 
Drinking late, while she tended the younkers. 
Then one night in wee hours, she began to complain 
And threatened with lawyers and child-support pain, 
Even though she could hear I was stuck on the train. 
Still, I never believed she would leave me.

And the bar played "Trains in The Night", 
And my story kept gradually growing, 
To stay safe in my bar, and to follow my star, 
And to keep me poor Missus from knowing.

I am destitute now, as l I sit on the stoop, 
And wait for a visit from Todd 
And my life's at a halt, all the barkeeper's fault, 
For my story was perfect, b'God, 
When I phoned to explain 'bout the slow-running train, 
The stupid old bugger lost track of his brains 
And the phone booth was filled with betraying refrains, 
And she swore she would leave me by morning.

For the bar played "Stuck At the Market", 
Though my story 'bout "Trains " was all right, 
Gone the kids, gone the savings, and I drink til I'm raving, 
And I tell meself lies, late at night. 

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