Let us draw a parallel for you, if it won't tax your WKD-addled brain too much. Imagine that a football referee has a terrible game, drops a series of clangers and totally fucks it up. He misses the nailed-on penalty, overrules his linesman on a crucial offside decision, and sends off three players out of sheer pettiness. The whole world – including the FA - can see what the problem is and who is to blame, yet if a player or a manager points it out, then they're the ones who are charged with bringing the game into disrepute.
And that seems to be what you're saying to us: just because we notice and report on the shocking situation in Newcastle's drinking scene, you somehow think that it's our fault.
If a pub chain has had financial difficulties, then don't you think it just underlines what we've been saying all along? Maybe now it will finally dawn on people that, in an already over-saturated market, you can't just paint any old room purple, hoy down the snap 'n' fix flooring, stick in a Carling pump and a couple of no-brand optics, and then expect the filthy lucre to come rolling in.
It’s really quite simple: if a bar opens and no fucker turns up, then it’s because the bar is not what the customer wants. There is no conspiracy, no whispering campaign, and no sinister underground movement. Do you really imagine that the Burglar's Dog is in any way dictating taste? Seriously, who the fuck would read the book or the site for the factual accuracy of the reviews?
I'll say it again: we are not responsible for the hubris of the pub world. All we do is remind people of the reality, and try to get them to open their eyes to the fact that Newcastle is not the partyingest place on Earth, no matter how many pages of gurning, drunken half-wits or primped-up inadequates are churned out. We only aim to give an alternative to the on-message glossy crap of Featurette City, stuff that contains far more twisted half-truths than anything we could conjure up. We have no obligation to promote a silk purse fashioned from a pig's knackersack because, unlike the poor sods on the style mag treadmill, we don't have to rely on advertising revenue, and are therefore less likely to have to get used to the taste of corporate cock.
We're not in the habit of using the loss of livelihoods as comedy material. We know from bitter experience that redundancy is no fucking cakewalk. But pub owners have to understand that getting the business loan from the bank is no guarantee of success. The licensed trade is not a charitable concern, and Oxfam aren't going to send out the begging letters when it all goes tits up. And anyway, did any of these bastards chip in when I got laid off and was staring ruin in the goggly eye? No, they just hiked up their fucking prices and expected me to smile about it.
We know we're living in an age where, if you get a tenner a month pay rise, then a dozen greedy shyster companies will each demand "just" a fiver of it from you. But isn't it about time it was acknowledged that there is no bottomless pit, and that a scrotum can only be tweaked so hard before fists start flying? Besides, if the money can only be shared so far, aren't bars effectively asking you, the paying customer, to undermine the profit margin of their competitors by filling their own coffers? And who ever shed a tear for their rival's misfortune?
Where are we heading after this? I wish I could believe that things would improve, that this is the kick in the arse the city needs to restore a bit of sanity in the pub circuit. But I fear that it's only going to get worse; as the bigger companies strengthen their monopolies there'll be less variety, with panic and hysteria amongst the also-rans forcing them to look at the few successful bars and copy their shtick right down to the last black napkin or designer lampshade.
The bottom line is that it's the bars themselves who are responsible for this situation. Through transparent greed and arrogance, and through contempt for their customers, the downturn in the industry is the fault of the owners and designers, forcing the same tired old shit upon the punters. Why? Because they think the pub next door is making a killing, and if they follow blindly then they'll get a slice of the pie.
We're sorry that your bar of choice may have had a few difficulties, but don't be giving us any old pony about "buzzin'" or "chilled" or "get a life!", just because you and your equally gobshite mates are prepared to put up with the status quo. For every numbskull that whistles and whoops and throws their hands in the air, there are another ten customers who swear down they won't be coming back.
And that's not our fault. People aren't staying at home because we tell them to, but because pubs are all the same. They all serve the same overpriced piss in the same depressingly bland rooms to the sounds of the same indistinguishable DJs. And they're all fucking shite.
Sainsbury's is rapidly becoming the new warm-up bar, with the clued-up drinker stocking up on cans for a blinding night in. Look at the attractions of the sitting room: less expense, less violence, less shitty beats, less fucking imbeciles, and the freedom to sack it off when you've had enough without the need to hand over half a week's wages to some racist cunt taxi driver.
We don't claim to have any sort of radical insight. We’re just a bunch of berks with too much spare time on our hands. But if it continues in the way that it has been, then Newcastle's drinking scene is fucked, and we'd get no pleasure out of saying we told you so. But something has to change. Believe us: If fucking idiots like us can see that the king is in the altogether then the problem must be pretty easy to spot.
For further information, click HERE to read the Evening Chronicle's original article.
Our "stupid" book, The Burglar's Dog Alternative Guide to Drinking in Newcastle upon Tyne can be purchased by following this link:
