Crawling around.

The Punch Bowl looked inviting: not too busy, a good selection of well-priced beers and punctuation was optional. “Slappers, fucking slappers”, Max exploded inside. “Give it the one eye, no ambience – nothing! Plenty of minge but not the minge we want Kentucky. I’m appalled by this pub. A crime against humanity. It should not be allowed to exist.” And the beer … 3/4 of a pint left in each glass – vile, viscous vomit! We forced our way out through the smell of stale food.