The Rutland (Up In) Arms

September 27, 2017 11:54am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 32 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

“Come to the village,” they said

“You’ve not been for ages,” they said.

“Yeah but… I can’t drink a lot. I’ve gotta get up early in the morning. You listening?”

“Yeah, we’ll just have a few. Quiet night. There’s horse racing at the pub!”

“Horse racing. At. The. Pub….?”

“It’s raising money for Macmillan cancer support.”

“Fine, but I MUST behave.”

Hmmmm. Now those that have followed this here blog for some time know how things end up in my mother’s village. Dicey to say the least.

Horses For Courses

We arrived at the Rutland Arms and got settled. Before any drink even touched my lips I knocked Cockney Al’s speaker off the table and broke the thing. I got ribbed for it all night. I lost all my money on the horses whereas my mother kept on winning and turning her hard cash into vodka and tonics. I should have known then. As moral guidance goes, she’s crap.

Things went steadily downhill from that point and a group of us ended up at some ungodly hour dancing to seventies music in the village wine bar fuelled by knockoff bottles of vino. I knew it had all gone tits up when my hair had turned into “Not tonight Josephine” and my mum sat in the corner talking to herself.

The Morning After The Night Before…..Morning …or…Let’s Just Say ‘The Morning’

It was a quarter to 3 by the time I managed to get her home, and we all went to kip.

I woke at 7.15 and got up. I begged for death. When it didn’t come I went downstairs and made myself a cuppa. Because tea cures everything. Except for village hangovers. I found a travel pod of Advil from America in my handbag and praised myself for never emptying it out from all those months ago. I went back to bed. Just for a minute, until I felt better.

I woke up again at quarter to 1 in the afternoon. Day ruined. I lay there and cursed my mother for 15 minutes. Then I remembered it was Sunday and that’s not allowed. She made me a bacon sarnie so I forgave her. A bit. But not much.

My advice?

Never listen to your parents.

Below is a bit of village pub life – it should be on the telly as a black comedy.


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Took 2 days for the hangover to subside all in the name of charity! Funny there is only great consuming of alcohol when you visit. I blame it on the naughty child!!! Can’t beat village life

Oh yeah, that’s right, blame the underdog. You can spin how you want, I know the facts. AND remember, I can write a book on ’em and have you in the gossip pages. Think on! 😉

LOL. Remember, this was for a good cause plus you killed off all those weak braincells. A twofer.

The MC should have his own TV show. 🙂

‘Nox, I killed off 97% of my brain cells. My IQ has gone down 1/2 a point.

He totally should. Al is a legend. 🙂

I really do need to come there one day, but I’m afraid i might get myself into trouble. But…if there is bacon in the morning…and who am I to walk away from a charitable event. 😉

Yes you flippin’ do, Tracy! However, I will not be held responsible for you making it back through the Heathrow airport security scanner and back to the States. You might end up in quarantine, just sayin’ 😉

Where is this place? Brilliant video and accompanying post. What a laugh a minute! Hope the hangover has subsided.

Have you heard of Brigadoon, Jane? If so, think of a dark and twisted dystopian version of that and you’ll find it.

Hmmm…I gave up for 48 hours and then someone made me have cocktails last night. I feel a bit like that in-between stage from Christmas to New Year – ya know, resentful, fatigued, slightly nauseous and not a people fan. 🙂

You know if you’re not blind for three days after your big night at the Rutland Arms that you didn’t work at it hard enough. I’m not challenging you to put everything into the party, just making an observation.

As to the meat raffle – great idea.

To be honest, Larry, being blind for three days might have its plus points.
That’s a very passive-aggressive challenge…. ;P
Look, I did my best considering. I hope you’ve got my bail money safe in case!

The meat raffle is great but…do you like the irony of the fat gay getting pork? Heh! Am I the only person that spotted that? …..I’ll get my coat…..

> Am I the only person that spotted that?
Nej, inte så! But I was politely pretending I didn’t notice….
Besides, I’m more envious of Martin getting the pork belly.
Mmmm. Pork belly. Found a local(ish) place that serves up great Chinese-style pork belly. If I gave up drinking I might be able to justify the extra caloric intake. […] Shyeah, like that’s going to happen.

Det är vad de alla säger…..Mike!

And you don’t have to be polite here. When it comes to etiquette, just follow my lead!

Well, trouble is, you can’t have pork without a large glass of pinot or a cloudy cider. Thems be the rules! So, it’s either that or back to salad and the gym. Gee, what a difficult choice….

I like this kind of horse-racing, it’s kind, no risk of injury to the animals. the horses anyway.

goodbye, mah dahlin, we’re losing the house *)

Just injury to the clientele but that’s usually deserved.

What? Are you serious or are you playing a new game that I don’t know about where cakes aren’t lies? Don’t make me worry, my sweet *)…….

There’s something pretty special about bellowing SPARTACUS in the Rutland Arms and there’s Cockney Al, too. Great fun. Horse racing sounds neat too, especially given the after party… Well done, Advil.

I AM SPARTACUS! Don’t forget that, LSP

I hope you noticed that Mary from the church wins bloody everything. Her horse came in time and again. She always wins at Sticky 13’s too. God favours his own…..

Yeah well done Advil. Boy, did they save the day along with the bacon sarnie. 🙂

Poor Faz only got mince? What a gyp.

Day saved, you mean?

Faz shoulda bought more tickets – cheapskate. Let him eat Bolognese!

No, M. I was supposed to be going on an adventure and it got right royally fooked over. Instead, I had to be utterly atrocious with replenishing tea, a blanket and mindless TV that made me hate people. 😉

The road to hating people is usually a pretty short ride.

True dat!

Again: different circles.
Most of the activities at our local, involve razor blades.
And I’m not talking about the Children In Need leg shaving event.

OOOH! Luvverly Luton! Such a crowd puller!

Do they even shave their legs down there, Masher? 😉

Come Spring, yes, of course they do.
Both of them.

Things are improving then….

Was there any pork sword in the meat raffle?!

HAHAHAHA! Nah, mate. We didn’t enter! *Poor Mr Harvey thinks he’s been cursed with the gruesome twosome checking out his…* I digress….. If it comes in a hideous pair of red slacks or the village idiots Primark pants, I think it should be given a wide birth, ya know wot I mean 😉

I love being your friend!

Wait just one darn minute… You ended up at some ungodly hour dancing to seventies music in the village wine bar fuelled by knockoff bottles of vino.? You were in heaven and forgot to invite the biggest devil of all? (That would be me.) Wait…. are devils allowed in pub heaven? Do you reckon they’d be willing to turn a blind eye just because I happen to be a blue one? Wait… I’ll just say I’m with Jules, the one who broke Cockney Al’s speaker. That’ll do the trick, right? Right?

BLUE! I’ve missed you! MADLY!

You know you can come any time, anyplace, anywhere. You da Martini man, innit!
Devils are positively encouraged in pub heaven no matter what colour and if you’re with me you can do as you damn well please! 🙂

I’m sorrt, Jules. I’ve got so much work to do I don’t even have time to get drunk. I’m writing this online course and it needs to be finished before X-mas. Yes, I’m stressed. But…. I miss you, too. Don’t tell me I can do as I damn well please. They might phone the cops and I’ll have to finish that damn course while dudging the horney jail birds. Women, of course.

I’m sick of these people working you like a dog, Blue. Your people NEED YOU! Want me to have a chat with ’em? 😉

I think that possibly the meat raffle was a tad more exciting than the horse racing. I can only imagine Al’s description of The Fat Gay accepting his pork !!
I couldn’t help notice that little Terry took home the chops. But, if I may be so bold, what the foque are ‘gammon’ and ‘ lollypop steak’ ?

Yes, you can just imagine…..heh!

Little Terry? As opposed to XL Terry, right?

Have you never had a piece of gammon? Actually, I don’t ever remember seeing it in Merrrica. It’s cured, hind leg of Pork. Proper nice with a fried egg on top and chips. Give it a shot. As for lollypop steak its either steak threaded on a stick for BBQ or a rib eye on a bone – both look like lollipops (popsicle) to us Brits. You learn something new everytime here. Don’t say I never do anything for ya! 🙂

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