Well, it WAS Friday the 13th yesterday! Even so, some pretty weird graffiti was scrawled up in the burrow toilets. Zola - having presumably quaffed several doubles of single malt in the Snug - waxed incoherently surrealist, while an anonymous scribbler had the chutzpah to suggest that anticant needed his posterior kicking.
The Beadle has been instructed to patrol the toilets frequently, and to administer summary justice with his truncheon to anyone using lavatory language or advocating violence against the management. If there is any more of this kind of behaviour, the burrow court will be convened to consider the withdrawal of free drinks privileges in the Snug, and - as a last resort - the installation of CCTV cameras in the toilets.
According to one of Zola's Mystic Meg-type messages, someone called 'Tousers' - or alternatively 'Kegs' - has had a birthday. If this, is in fact, our regular patron Trousers, we wish him many happy returns.
ben trovato, also in surrealist mode, offers the following suggestion to lavenderblue for a new painting to adorn the Snug:
"On the pale yellow sands
There's a pair of clasped hands
And an eyball entangled in string
And a plate of raw meat
And a bicycle seat
And a thing that is scarcely a thing."
anticant, however, is not inclined to pay for it.
The Beadle says it would make him throw up.
Have a nice weekend, everybody. And BEHAVE YOURSELVES.