ain't you got no bleedin homes to go to

i've read some strange and frightening things over the weekend mainly courtesy of a mysterious mr h. this poor disturbed soul has filled my nightmares with such terrors as 'beach bar' 'chilled beats' 'sandaled feet' and most diabolical yet 'i never wear shoes'. 'i never wear shoes'? have you ever heard anything so despicable ? and to cap it all there's a selection of these 'chilled beats'. whatever they are. the briefest examination leads me to believe they're quite jolly ditties enjoyed by your young people. sends a shiver down the spine just thinking about them doesn't it?
round here we know that beer is for crying in and the only good boozer is a dingy boozer. where people wear shoes. and the crooner is king.

a dingy boozer selection
anthony newley - what kind of fool am i
matt monro - on days like these
judy garland - the man that go away
johnnie ray - cry
ella fitzgerald - miss otis regrets
frank sinatra - one for my baby


for more dodgy boozer treats i suggest a visit to dodgy boozers

ps
random london fact of the week
there are several pubs in the west end that go by the name ‘the blue posts’. these pubs are supposedly named after actual blue posts that once marked the boundaries of the old hunting ground that gave its name to soho (‘soho!’ being an old hunting call).
if you fancy a pub crawl to check out these establishments for yourself, the pubs can be found on newman street, berwick street, rupert street, kingly street and bennett street (just off st. james’s street).
thankyou londonist. but just go to berwick street.
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