Tim Platt wasn't happy with some changes at his favorite pub and his displeasure eventually got him banned, which, I guess, isn't as bad as being banned for brawling or having sex in the bathroom, though it is far less exciting.
Anyway, Mr. Platt said, "Fuck it, I'll buy the joint then."
Mr Platt, who lives in Hampton-in-Arden, said: "It was a sad day - it's a traditional village local but it was becoming bare boards and characterless.
"I voiced my opinion. It should serve food with beer, not food and no beer."
So when that landlord left and the pub came up for sale, Mr Platt, who had always dreamed of owning a pub, jumped at the chance to buy it.
Awsesome. Mr. Platt is clearly a man after the Unknown Column's heart.
Owning a bar someday has always been near the top of my list of things to do. The thought of having televisions in every direction airing sports, a healthy female crowd, and, of course, free booze is simply heavenly. Now I only need to decide which bar I've been banned from would be the best to purchase. There are several.
OK, it was only one. How was I supposed to know it wasn't cool to reach over the bar and pull yourself a Guinness just because last call had already gone down?
