Tuesday, April 19, 2011

How to go to the bar with $20 and come home drunk with $30

It’s getting a bit brisk outside, eh? This phenomenon of cold weather is called “not summer anymore” and usually happens around this time each year. However, it doesn’t mean that you can’t still head out to the pub for a couple of schooeys with your mates; if anything, you should embrace the chill and piss it up as much as you can, as other thin-skinned idiots will opt to stay at home and watch repeats of Birds of a Feather on telly, meaning you won’t have to line up for twelve hours to order a beer while some clown in front of you tries to decide whether he should get a Victoria Bitter or a Melbourne Bitter.

As always, there are a few things that you need to keep your eye out for when frequenting a bar, pub, club or underground liquor dealing establishment. What follows is Mister Evil Breakfast’s Follow Up To A Previous Guide That Also Had To Do With Drinking Beer But This One Is About Tight Arses Especially (MEBFUTAPGTAHTDWDBBTOIATAE). Thank god for acronyms.

Statistics prove that in 71% of regular drinking groups, there’s one member who doesn’t always play by the rules and may benefit from each round of drinks more than his or her friends do. I can’t seem to lay my hands on the volumes of scientific research that went into this statistic, so you’ll just have to take my word on it. I daresay the Vatican has got its hands on it by now… sneaky Vatican. No one ever suspects the Pope. On a side note, I wonder what kind of undies the Pope has?

Archaeologists like Indiana Jones and other people who aren’t entirely real have dug up proof that cheapskates at the pub have existed since prehistoric times.

The Drinkasaurus Rex was a dinosaur who lived in the Triassic Period in what is now the Gobi Desert. Fossils have shown that this six-foot scavenger would readily group with other species of dinosaurs including the Myshoutasaurus, Haveabeermateritops and the Ucanbuythenextroundadon. The Drinkasaurus Rex’s most recognisable characteristics were that its arms were not long enough to reach into its pockets, and therefore relied on other dinosaurs to purchase beer. It is ironic then, that palaeontologists have theorised that the Drinkasaurus would consume any available liquid, but was either not able or not willing to provide it for himself.

A more recent example of cheapskate drinking is the Disappearing Coin phenomenon, whereby the cost of each round of drinks changes, either by bartender error, order differences or some underhanded tight-arse tactics in which you time your move right and order a round of light beers and hope that no one notices. More confident Magicians of the Disappearing Coin may opt for the “I’ll go if you pay” theory, and keep a certain amount of the change without telling the payer of the shout.

Other strategies of thieving some money from your mates under the guise of beer provision is to announce yourself as the next shouter and casually stroll up to the bar. Order your drinks and call upon one of your friends to help you carry the glasses back to your group. At the point of paying for the beverages, feign surprise when your wallet is empty. To avoid complete embarrassment, ask your mate to spot you, and swear you’ll go to the ATM and pay him back. If, during the night, he asks if you have that money, tell him that the ATM is “rooted” and it looks like “some bastard” has shoved an old Video Ezy membership card into the slot, and you will pay him back “later” or “as soon as we leave this place”. “Later” is a vague description of the future, and you should both know that the only way you’ll leave the pub is when no one has any more money.

By the way, it’s your shout, tiger. I got the last one.

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