Shakespeare’s Head, Holborn, London

 

I had some time to kill until the wife got off work at 9, so I dropped in the Shakespeare’s Head.  It wasn’t nearly as busy — or pricey — as the Montagu Pyke but I still found myself waiting a while at the bar.  Pretty certain I was the next one, one of the young women tending bar looked past me and asked, “what can I get you?”  Annoyed, I turned to look at the drunk that had stumbled up next to me and we gave each other disgusted looks.  Then, I looked back at the Italian kid behind me — one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen.  Looking back at the bar to my likewise overlooked partner I said, “yeah, fair enough…I’d fuck him too.”  The tender looked annoyed with me and one of her colleagues came up and took my order then, nodding back at the underwear model added, “as a gentleman of a certain age, I think you’d have a better chance with him than she does.”  I looked again then back at her; “mmm, hmm…as a gentleman of ANY age, or just a man for that matter.”

 

 

I wound up drinking my pint of porter with my bar partner and his friend over by a window.  They were very, very drunk and wanted to know my opinion about the inauguration speech.  I told them I hadn’t seen it, yet and, as it turned out, neither had they.  We tried to come up with what Trump had to say to the dozens of supporters gathered in DC for the event and I scribbled these notes from our reconstruction on a napkin: “In your face n-words, muslimists, and generally all you haters. I’m the Prez now and you can all kiss my shiny orange ass.”  I think I was starting to get a little high, too.

 

Map link here.