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Monopoly
Some way into Saturday’s Monopoly-based pub crawl* a group of us are approached by a 19-year-old girl who has broken away from her mates to say the following: “Can I ask you something? Are you coppers?”
We’re four men, one woman, all between 25 and 34 and wearing dark coats or jackets, drinking half pints or spirits, some of which are spat out in surprise. “Only,” she goes on, “you look like undercover policemen. It’s all right,” she reassures us as we begin to protest, “my dad’s a policeman, so I know all the procedures.”
“We’re not bloody policemen,” says one of our number, down for the weekend from Yorkshire.
“Oh, okay,” she says, unconvinced. “But you, you’re Scottish, right?”
“I’m from Yorkshire!” he splutters.
“Yeah, but Yorkshire’s in Scotland, innit?” she says, puzzled.
He won’t talk to her any more. I’m keen to continue this, as her internal random comment generator seems promisingly productive, but I’m dragged off and out to the next pub.
* We didn’t do too badly: Old Kent Road, Whitechapel, Fenchurch Street, Liverpool Street, Angel, Pentonville Road, Kings Cross, Euston, Marylebone, Park Lane, Mayfair, Vine Street(ish), Bond Street(ish), Regent Street, Great Marlborough Street, Piccadilly, Pall Mall. Then we stopped, ate and went home, because frankly it was getting ridiculous.
We’re four men, one woman, all between 25 and 34 and wearing dark coats or jackets, drinking half pints or spirits, some of which are spat out in surprise. “Only,” she goes on, “you look like undercover policemen. It’s all right,” she reassures us as we begin to protest, “my dad’s a policeman, so I know all the procedures.”
“We’re not bloody policemen,” says one of our number, down for the weekend from Yorkshire. “Oh, okay,” she says, unconvinced. “But you, you’re Scottish, right?”
“I’m from Yorkshire!” he splutters.
“Yeah, but Yorkshire’s in Scotland, innit?” she says, puzzled.
He won’t talk to her any more. I’m keen to continue this, as her internal random comment generator seems promisingly productive, but I’m dragged off and out to the next pub.
* We didn’t do too badly: Old Kent Road, Whitechapel, Fenchurch Street, Liverpool Street, Angel, Pentonville Road, Kings Cross, Euston, Marylebone, Park Lane, Mayfair, Vine Street(ish), Bond Street(ish), Regent Street, Great Marlborough Street, Piccadilly, Pall Mall. Then we stopped, ate and went home, because frankly it was getting ridiculous.
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We decided from the off we wouldn’t be doing it in order. Those who have tried despair of the extra travel needed to fit in the stations, whereas our route neatly incorporated them. The only real flaw in our plan was that we had all been out at various places the night before, so none of us were in any state to kick off at eleven. We began at the Lord Nelson on the Old Kent Road at one, and wound up eating at the Texas Embassy (“Look, it’s on Pall Mall, all right?”) at eleven-thirty. Next time we will not only start on time, but hopefully somehow incorporate electricity and water companies as well. Plus I know someone who sometimes works at Holborn jail, though I’m not sure exactly how we could organise anything there...