The Village Inn, Ealing, London   Leave a comment


The guy standing at the bar in the Village Inn pontificated on A Fool And His Money on holiday. “Some of them book a six thousand pound per week villa online: the works — chauffeur, house servants, all of that. Pay by bank transfer and then they are surprised when they arrive at Lanzarote and there’s no one there to pick them up.” His partner, trapped, nodded and sipped his beer. “Bank Transfer…that’s why I always pay with a credit card, so they cover you if it goes tits up. If it sounds too good to be true, I always say.”

A kid walked behind a Mercedes convertible out front of the pub and the lights started flashing. Mr Wisdom Of The Ages observed, “will you look at that…a silent alarm.”

“It will stop in a minute,” chimed in a guy sitting by the window. “It’s mine.”
“Very nice. Very nice, indeed. Are you a doctor?” he inquired (you don’t get this clever without a healthy curiosity).
“No, he’s a travel agent specializing in posh villas in the Canary Islands,” I interrupted whilst returning my glass.
“20% discount if you pay by Bank Transfer,” Mercedes man added, as I was leaving.



Posted August 12, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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