Baggage

I heard this yesterday and thought it quite prophetic.

“Rucksacks are the caravans of pedestrians”

It was just as I buttonholed some dozy Spanish bird who had staggered up to the first floor of the bar and was just about to attempt the ascent to the second floor.
“Do us all a favour, love, put your bag in the cloakroom”
“Why”?
“Because it’s a bit big to be wandering around with inside the bar don’t you think”?
“Oh, OK”.
This is the measure of the punters who come into “London’s’ premier polysexual venue” [you work out where it is].
Harking back to a post about gays lesbians etc, I had never thought about polysexual. The reason being that there is no such thing. It’s a crap way of saying it’s a bar. The pub my boyfriend manages is a “polysexual venue”. It has its share of fags and dykes [they comprise most of the staff] but doubtless there is a fair contingent amongst the punters. I know that Dave comes out with some complete bollocks from time to time but even he couldn’t come up with “polysexual”.
Imagine the situation, you’re watching Call My Bluff and Frank Muir is defining polysexual.

“Wewww, it’s a way of descwibing somewhere that was once a qweer bar and has wost the pwot and now wets any pwick in so wong as they have a pwid in their paw”

to which Patrick Campbell replies with

“I know just sersersersersuch a perperperperlace in Soho!”