Midget, Abingdon, Oxfordshire   2 comments

Midget Abingdon

I have a long, strange history with Midgets…not as strange as Doug Stanhope, but strange enough.  Almost everyone I know in the States is aware that midgets give me the willies.  It isn’t a prejudice but something more visceral.  I have had jackass friends try to prank me by bringing little folk over to bar stools next to me and then being surprised that we hit it off and spend the rest of the evening laughing together (often laughing at said jackasses); it’s only later as I see them wander off that an involuntary shudder stakes its claim.  It has been that way since I was smaller than midgets, and I don’t know why.

Anyway, I ran from the Spread Eagle and found my way, intentionally I might add, to the Midget (or, as why speed-talking friend at the Eagle referred to it, The Magic Midget).  I got a beer and went out to the porch where the second chatty drunk guy of the day told me all about his career in the Royal Engineers.  Actually, it was a pretty good conversation, so much so that I forgot to make a note of his height.  Next time, for sure.

Later, I mentioned to Jackie that I went to a pub called the Midget and she just wanted to know what the sign looked like.  Just words, unfortunately. and not something cool like this {shudder}:

midget abingdon sign

Here’s a map link.

 

 

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Posted August 8, 2015 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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