‘Fighter by day, lover by night, drunkard by choice, sailor by mistake.’
Eight hours’ worth of pub crawling was both the cause and the downfall of the situation.
Cobra’s, whilst known for their hooded heads, venomous bites, cliché appearances in ‘Bond’ films, and starring as the lead villain of the odd Kipling tale, are not known for their nutritional value.
Cobra’s, as a general rule don’t feature on the drinks list of your average bar, in your average pub. Nor are they kept in a basket beneath bottles semi-artistically lining a shelf behind a barman, ‘ala spaghetti western bar room fight scene’ style. In this case, it was just across from the peanuts and other salt laden, dehydrating, thirst creating delights.
Half an hour has now passed. Locals point in disgust at the duo vomiting in tone perfect stereo; left hands extended, fingers splayed, forming gravity defying leverage…
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