I, like the next man, enjoy a quiet pint or two and 99% of the time I’ll be in my local where (sing the cheers theme tune here) everybody knows your name and they take a certain pride in the serving of the beer/cyder.

Now, I found myself out of my comfort zone the other day, I was in a strange town at a strange time, did what I needed to do and as any chap would do at the end of a long day I thought “Aha! time for a pint”

I like a pint of real ale, I know what a pint of ale looks like, I know what a pint of ale should taste like, the glass full of brown sludge I was presented with was the complete antithesis of beer. I mentioned this to the serving wench and she gladly pours me another with the same results.

Here comes the crux of my rant – after rejecting the second pint the “manager” – not landlord mind you, “manager” comes over and asks what the problem is, I proffer the rancid, unconditioned, yeast festival of a pint that is their “best” ale and ask him to “taste that, tell me that tastes OK to you” – “I’m sorry sir, I’m not allowed to drink on duty but it looks fine to me”

You’re 22 years old and think that all your mates love the fact that you have an electronic keyfob to operate the till. You can’t taste the product you are selling? Now, I’m a young old man and I know my beer, if it’s off, it’s off, don’t try and tell me it’s fine when it’s not, plus “you’re fucking 22! you probably drink WKD and think you are edgy”

Turns out their Guinness was alright and they forgot to charge me.