I rake through the bargain bin in Woollies but don't find anything I like - or more like every album in there is out of my price range! I walk out of the heavy metal-and-glass doors onto the famous High Street. I decide there and then to go on a little adventure…...
I walk past the Steeple, and on my left is “The Giraffe” which is one of Fawkuurt's auldest pubs. Outside, the publican is giving Big Tam Cupboard a telling-off, and barks; ‘YER BARRED!’ (I feel like shouting over that he definitely isn't, because I am the only Bard in the Toon!) Big Tam is a local legend who has never done any harm to anyone - but he is barred from every single pub in a 5 mile radius - but only when he runs out of money! They take his money, (normally his benefits that he needs to live on), then they kick him out. He's a lovable character, but for this particular landlord - only in small doses.
I take a left and turn onto Steeple Lane which is Britain's shortest street. I take another left and down onto Manor Street. On my left is “The Commissioner” and then the refurbished “George And Zippy's”. To my right is the world famous, “The One Shoe”. Then the fun begins. As I turn right into the long drag. Upstairs to my left is “McGinn’s”. From here it is one very long street, packed with pubs, clubs, takeaways, bookies and some essential off-licences. There is the odd laundromat and hairdressers for the wummin. 'Graham's Road' is actually five roads merged into one big autobahn for alkies, but doesn't actually belong to anybody called Graham...
I am right at the top of Fawkuurt looking down the long road and out across to the Ochil Hills. So far, all I've seen outside the pubs I've passed is the odd bike or dog tied to lampposts, and the obligatory cloud of white smoke pouring out of the establishments with the occasional native milling about. I pass “Duke's” which even as a kid I was warned to stay away from. Over the years, that advice has been reinforced. There's normally horses tied to fencing outside there!
Technically, “McFly’s” is stepped back from the main parade, but that's where aw the buurds go - and they go all the way from what I hear. Now I step up the pace, passing “The Tavern”, “The Third King” and the aptly named; “The Bar-L”! They are noisy howffs with pool tables and jukeboxes, always with loud music blaring and locals arguing. Then I slip down to “The Soakin' Goose”, which has a live DJ. All are beginning to fill up, and then I breeze past “The Electric Bar” which is normally classed as being a “couples” bar - or yuppies as they're known locally. The under-agers that always congregate outside are never getting in there! (Maybe if they stand there for another 4 years, they would eventually get invited in, but not in shell-suits and trainers).
This section is “heavy duty” on the weekends and is always packed-up during the day with the fitba' crowd. The night before the match, they sell programmes and newspapers as Brockville is just behind their premises. After the games they sell the Sports Pink and Sporting Post, Daily Record and The Warcry from The Sally Army. There's a few restaurants close by- so the students often sell those tacky roses to the couples. They are £2 a pop, and you can't even eat them. Then I enter the 'hard-core' section. The section with red lights, blue lights and lights that get punched out.
“Champ's”, “The Shelter”, “The Masochists” and “The 5 Points” all have the obligatory pavement pizzas, broken glass, fechts and normally a good place for kids to pick up shrapnel in the mornings. Every pub has had their fair share of bodies lying outside them over the years. Some older poets, like Drunk Joe - who waxes lyrical with swear words and obscenities, is often gifted tins of beer by landlords just to go away! Rewarding his die-hard commitment to alcoholism. (Poetic justice?) Another legend that the people of Fawkuurt look out for, often feeding and clothing his skinny bearded frame.
“The Brigadier”, “Brigadoon” and “The Red Herring” are where the boxers and the bouncers go to warm up before heading up to the town. There's also 2 brothels placed kindly in walking distance too, or officially termed as “saunas”. This stretch is where there is a constant stench of urine...
“Goodies”, “Martina's” (tucked in just off the road, as I've already explained why!), “The Derry”, “Skeanblu” and “Pechebels” are all filled to the brim with natives. Great crowds every week and with live music, bands and the drunkards favourite; karaoke! Of course, there is a regular stream of comedians in ALL the pubs in oor wee toon. Some are infectiously funny, others are just plain stupid - but they all get a laugh.
Spaced further apart are “Codey's”, “Beales” and then “Rab's Bar”. Here ends my wee story, but it is certainly not the end. Tomorrow I turn 18 and “Daft Rab's” will be where I start my next story - where me and my mates will attempt to have one drink in every single pub on this legendary pub crawl on the way to the pinnacle... Fawkuurt Steeple!
(Will i even remember all the details to write another story???)