Big Cheese

I am naturally a cynic, this means that I expect people to do stupid and inane things but a recent incident in our local pub left even me astounded by the depths of ridiculousness some people will plumb.

There's a chap who drinks regularly in our local, we'll call him Big Cheese because that's what he thinks he is. He's been drinking in there for years and he still propositions every young barmaid in there, as he used to in the days when my best friend and I worked in there and probably back beyond that. He's got a beer gut that makes him look ten months pregnant and a platinum blonde bob. His arrogance is legendary around the area and he once got barred from the pub for attempting to land one on the landlord. Witnesses were heard to say that it was the girliest attempt at a punch ever seen.

Anyway, a while back Big Cheese decided that ordinary bar stools were not good enough for a man of his calibre so he bought another bar stool and had a little plaque put on the back (just so everyone knew it was HIS bar stool) that says 'Bezzo's chair for football'. It may as well have said 'They guy who owns this bar stool is a proper twat' because that's the message that everyone took from it. Last Friday the gang got together in the pub to discuss holidays and Big Cheese was in there drinking (and flicking his platinum bob about). He was stood up chatting to his friends instead of sitting in the prat-seat, which was at the end of the bar in the middle of a very ordinary looking group of middle aged chaps having a chat about football. After about half an hour an elderly gentleman on crutches came into the pub and headed over to the middle aged blokes who naturally parted and made room for him to sit on the nearest bar stool which happened to be – the prat seat. The moment that tweed touched leather upholstery Big Cheese's head went up and his hackles rose – some bastard had his arse on HIS chair and although he wasn't interested in the prat-seat before the chap sat down he sure as hell was now. You could practically see his mind turning things over – "the social rules suggest that it is not on to turf a disabled man off a bar stool however that bastard is sat on MY stool and is evidently unaware of how very very important I am. What do I do?". Inevitably arrogance won. He strolls over to the group of men, shoulders swinging, beer gut held proudly aloft like a 20 stone peacock and in an oh-so-jokey, matey-matey way informs the disabled chap that this is HIS bar stool. The men look stunned, they don't seem to have expected this and they clearly aren't regulars here, something that is unlikely to change since their friend has just been told to get his crippled ass off the bar stool by some fat git who is clearly scent marking the bar stool in the manner of a dog piddling up a lamp post. One of the group must have pointed out to Big Cheese that the guy wasn't able to stand up at the bar as he was on crutches because the next moment the arrogant tosspiece barges his way across the bar, grabs a bar stool, hoists it across the entire length of the pub and plonks it next to the prat-seat. The man on crutches now has to carefully ease his way off the prat-seat, balance and turn on the crutches and manouvre himself onto the ordinary bar stool, by which point he and his mates are looking distinctly unimpressed. Undeterred by the fact that half the pub is now gawking at him and marvelling at the fact that someone is a big enough cock to make a disabled man get off a chair, Big Cheese triumphantly carries the prat-seat over to his group where he proceeds to stand next to it with one arm draped protectively over it to prevent anyone else sitting on it. Far from being impressed by his assertion of his property rights, people were turning to each saying "Did he really…he didn't just…he surely didn't just do that did he?". Amusingly, the football was on in the pub on Tuesday and I got a text from one of the boys saying that Big Cheese had just come into the pub carrying…yes, you guessed it, the prat-seat. In order to stop other patrons sitting on it, the utter tit has started taking the bar stool home with him and bringing it back each time he comes into the pub.

I don't know what staggers me most, the fact that Big Cheese does these stupid things or the fact that he can't see that his every action makes him look like a pillock. As long as he is drinking in our local there will be forever be a village missing its idiot.

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9 Responses

  1. Big cheese, little dick, I think.

  2. Unfortunately it sounds like he's your village idiot!!!! What an unadulterated cock! I'm amazed that he has such a disconnect with reality that he can't see what an unacceptable thing he did. He's obviously totally blissful in his total and utter ignorance!

  3. It's almost the stuff of sitcom that, Vicola!!A working title of "Tool with Stool" springs to mind… sorry 😉

  4. Tool with Stool! I love it. I so should have called this post that. I bow to your superior titling ability.

  5. The publican never should have allowed the stool in the first place…deserves to have his customers leave.
    I wonder if someone gets injured by the stool, or falls over the stool, who do they sue? The prat or the publican? Or both?

  6. Oh my god, I can't believe that! What an asshole!

  7. Perhaps that stool has more than one meaning? 🙂

  8. Hahhaaaa…I bet he was the school bully too!
    Just remark on Flamingo Dancer….the UK and Aust aren't quite up to the Suing Standard as the US…..you won't see Lawyers advertising their wares on local or cable TV in these countries. Don't worry, I'm sure it will get there eventually!

  9. Ah they're leaching in here as well. I even saw a 'no win no fee' poster up in our local hospital last time I was there, which seemed a bit much to me.

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