Dave Heron's Moustache wrote:
Only went in Woodies once. I'd spent the swealtering afternoon swimming in hot chicken entrails (which smell like Satan's worst vindaloo dump) for an animal physiology practical. They did a "happy hour" type deal of 4 pints for a pound. So sitting there with my mates (each with 4 pints infront of us), we all take a sip and non of us can taste anything but chicken entrails. We left, and left the beer. Never went back.
If it was four pints of bitter then it was probably Norman who served you, Norman always just served bitter, nothing else, you could ask for anything you liked, you could reel off a long string of drinks, long as you like, and he'd stand there smiling at you and then at the end say "four pints of bitter is it ?"
Harry Enfield based his pub landlord character on Norman.