This evening I went to The Pig and Fiddle pub in the centre of Bath. Not a bad place to go really, although it can get rather busy, the pub does has a slight added interest for me though as the landlord is a Leeds fan and has signed shirts and memorabilia on the walls.

I went along with Mr. White, the same fellow renowned for his dangerous house parties (see below).

Now, over the years I have gone with Mr. White to pubs more times than I care to remember. I normally always have a good laugh, however when the evening draws to a close, the situation is always the same and a recent blog entry from DanintheMix will back me up on this…

What I would call an end of the evening (10.30-11.30pm), White would not, in fact the night is only getting started for him at this time. When I try to leave at this time there is trouble.

In recent years I have mastered a means of escape by secretly booking a taxi and excusing myself for a toilet break, only to climb aboard and piss off home. The trouble this evening was that we were all sat outside of the pub, right next to the main road. It would have been impossible to board a taxi and get away without Mr. White noticing. Had I made a run for it he would have probably thrown a beer glass at the back of my head and then chopped my foot off like Kathy Bates in Misery, therefore making any future escape attempts a tad more difficult.

As as it’s not even 1am and I am alive, home and blogging it is obvious that this evening’s story has a happy ending and I did manage to get away. Here’s how I did it, in what I like to call THE GREAT ESCAPE II

The Pig and Fiddle pub may be road side but it has a front and a back entrance, we were sat out in the back. It was coming up to 11pm and I thought I would call it a night. White obviously wanted to carry on drinking so any suggestion of leaving would have gone down like a lead balloon. So, I got up casually and informed the drunkard that I needed to go to the toilet. Luckily he bought this excuse (he was actually very gullible as I had only just come back from a genuine call of nature 5 minutes previous).

Instead of heading for the lavatories I escaped out of the front entrance of the pub and hurried, speedily to the nearby taxi rank. Luckily there was a cab waiting and I hopped aboard.

Now, White may be many things but he is a good bloke and had I not returned to the table he would have got concerned. I had to send him a text message to tell him of my escape and that I was OK. Within seconds of sending the SMS I got a reply “Watch out im on hunt for you !” (note: his poor grammer, not mine).

Now, even though I was in a taxi I was a little scared. I was still in town and the driver was heading towards none other than The Pig and Fiddle pub! How terrible would it be if the driver stopped at the traffic lights just opposite The Pig and Fiddle table? White would have spotted me, ran towards the car, smashing the passenger window and hurling me thorough it by my neck.

Thankfully the taxi driver took an alternate route at the last minute and I made it home safe and well. I am yet to hear anymore from Mr. White this evening. Maybe he is running up and down the streets of Bath still looking for me in a fit of rage! I think I’ll put the extra lock on the door tonight and sleep with the air pistol under my pillow in case he breaks into my flat and tries to get me back into town to drink more beer with him. I will lie in fear all night.