THE RULE OF TWO Ps

THE RULE OF TWO Ps THE RULE OF TWO Ps In the months following my stupid suicide failure, I had to learn everything again from scratch. Fortunately I can’t remember the potty training. Very quickly I realized that patience (please excuse the pun), and politeness are all that is needed in any situation. It seemed to work ever so well with the nurses. In the year or so since, I have stuck to this simple recipe and it seems to work remarkably well. However, any smugness I could feel was swiftly smote by the fact that in one month I was given eviction notice, had my television cut off and barred from a pub for the first time in my life. The TV thing was their mistake but the fact that I didn’t notice for days was entirely my fault. All that those nice people at Virgin had done was stop the transmission of satellite channels, so I could still receive digital radio. This, combined with the fact that it was Christmas, meant that I had no idea of this viewing restriction. I only watch television when sober. The whole thing was quickly and politely sorted out with myself only seeming fairly stupid. Being evicted was despite extreme politeness and patience with the letting agency. On the anniversary of my moving in to the hovel in Kemp Town, back on 18.10.07, I sent the agency a thank you card; ‘Thank you for providing the setting to the happiest year of my life’. I was not being sarcastic; I’m just like that. On 17.11.08 I received the eviction notice. Because private tenants have no rights in this country, it became abundantly clear that there was nothing to be done other than find somewhere else to live and not dwell too much on the situation. The new flat is so much nicer anyway. The pub incident was extraordinary. There is a pub in central Brighton known as ‘The Wags and Nags’. I have used that boozer for two decades or so. It has been a convenient place to meet people for drinks and even the occasional lunch. My friends and I must have spent thousands in there over the years. In the run up to Christmas I would head into town enjoying the lights and determined excitement, before stopping for a pint in ‘The Wags and Nags’ then heading home. I was on talking terms with one of the regulars and smiling terms with all of the staff. Thinking about it, I have never snorted a line or even smoked a spliff anywhere near the place. I have only ever politely bought alcohol, drank it and left with thanks. One lunchtime I had just started on a pint, served to me by the nice bar-lady who has worked there for years. Suddenly a portly man in glasses, whom I had never seen before, engaged me in a bizarre conversation from behind the bar. ‘What are you drinking?’ ‘Strongbow.’ ‘How much did it cost you?’ ‘Three pounds.’ ‘I’m not going to let you drink it.’ I thought it was a Health and Safety Spot-Check. Then I realized. ‘Oh’ ‘I’ll give you your three pounds back and you can leave.’ ‘May I ask why?’ ‘I don’t have to tell you.’ ‘You’re right; you don’t.’ I donned by jacket and collected my impedimenta. ‘Just as a matter of interest, may I ask why?’ ‘I don’t have to tell you.’ ‘Fair enoughski. Merry Christmas.’ Despite all this, I have decided to stick to the Rule of the Two Ps and that The Mash Tun is a great little pub; lovely people.