I hate to piss on the parade before it gets started but I regret to inform you that one of the other previously-alluded to PP goals is now officially dead. Under the influence of a few too many Smirnoff Ices, the blissful utopia of a pub owned and run by us seemed too good to be true. However the cold light of day has made me realise that barmaiding in a pub run by Pete should really not be the summit of any 25 year old’s ambitions. Horrific images of serving bowls of coco pops and pints of light and bitter spring to mind.

And the Coal Hole is indeed that. A hole. Well, the place is OK but most of the people in it were ****s. (See how polite I am! Well, my mum might read this).