We're obviously not shooting the shit on a roughly weekly basis. That's because the barman is an idle bastich, and because your opinions and emails are exhausting. Not because they're numerous or thought-provoking, just 'cause they sap the barman's will to live. Send in anything you want to say to the barman, if he likes it it'll go up here, but don't wait for thanks. We were fine before you showed your mug, and we'll be fine when you've gone. And whoever the sweaty cousin-fucker is that keeps sending in pornos, get the fuck out of my bar. My customers are all the cunts this bartender needs.

This is the speakeasy where the talk's tight and the tights talk. The terminal for trenchcoat troubadors, the smut of shadow in the meanest street where the bad guys go to rest and the good guys get murdered for their watches. Some of the lies and exaggerations that cross the bar and the tables here at Mike's have been collected into books. The first is called English Murder, and it's pretentious rubbish. It's dedicated to the Quicksilver Kid and herself. The second one's called The Railway Chameleon and it's for The Quicksilver Kid and a lady who used to come in here from time to time. The last one is called The Desolates and it probably won't be any worse than the others. Email the barman and he might send you some extracts. Then agan, he might just ignore you.

Enjoy.

This week's product endorsements are Jack Daniel's whiskey and Lucky Strike cigarettes, beyond any doubt the world's finest smoke. A tab worth the tumours, dig? On the jukebox this week are Mazzy Star and Johnny Cash. The nerds are enjoying a bit of freewire for quick stuff or whatever. This week's heroes are the staff of the King's Arms lurking near Waterloo, for turkey, free music and treble gins to spill down this barman's treble chin. Also my evil friend, even though we never manage to be in the same bar at the same time. You're the best there is, love. The Quicksilver Kid, of course. Funniest guy in the world, and there ain't no higher praise. This week's villains are people who bother the barman for no good fucking reason and non-smokers who cough pointedly in public places. We're kept in ghetto carriages and forced from our offices for you cunts. Did you know it's possible to minimise passive smoking? Yeah, we know how and we don't fucking bother. You sanctimonious pricks. Oh, and people who only drink on special occassions. Drinking makes every occassion special, dig? No, didn't think so. Pete- get heavy with these Methodists for me, will ya?

This week's quotation is from Robert Mitchum, proposing to his first wife. "Marry me and you'll be farting through silk for the rest of your life."

This week's good advice is from John Damn. "The only thing you should do in moderation is abstain from stuff."

Okay, that's the bell. Last words folks.

Diane from Hertfordshire wants to know how to cope with Mondays.

Well, Diane, you just remember that Mondays are as near to the weekend as Fridays and drink more on Sundays. Just think- are you going to look back on your life when the scowling dude comes and think of all those times you got into the office early and did a really good morning's work? Or are you going to pat your ulcers and reminisce on all those nights of legend? You don't have so many days at the final count, baby. Don't spend them all on capitalist motherfuckers and narrow-minded, self-important jobsworth cunts. If your boss is the only guy that's fucking you, that'd make a barman weep. And we don't weep for nowt. The fact that you're here at all means you're worth more than that, love.

Guy from the South wants to know why Windows keeps crashing.

Well, Guy, that ain't exactly the kind of question the barman's interested in, but you're clearly lonely so we'll humour you. Think who made it up. Think about whether he got laid in college or just watched other guys get the chicks because of things outside his control. Like having a crap chin and dandruff. Reckon he'd have spent all those college nights in his room wondering how he could make life better for jerks like you or dreaming of inventing something that you couldn't have because of something outside your control? Given the lurid state of the Internet these days, it's probably not unlike what he was missing out on all those years ago, dig?

We were also disappointed to hear from AJ in Reading, who wants to know why fools fall in love.
What's foolish, AJ is expecting someone to return your advances. If your chat's anything like your typing, you must pull the ladies like a cripple jives. Pete, show him the door.