I found myself in the White Lion off Stockport Road after missing my bus home, and with an hour or two to kill. The exterior of the property first attracted me to it, as it had a roof and it was raining. There was an advertised beer garden to let me know that all the ales would be organically grown on the premises; apparently they showed every Manchester United match, although I discovered later that this was erroneous.
On entering I approached the bar, which is of the traditional pub style, a little too high to lean on comfortably, and decorated with an array of beer soaked towels. I purveyed the array of beverages on offer from the hand drawn pumps. I asked which of them was grown in the beer garden, and received a blank look from the young lady behind the bar, so I selected Jeremiad's Regret. Whilst handing over my money, I enquired about watching the 1999 Champions League final Manchester United, that they won 2-1 over Bayern Munich (possibly my favourite United game), only to be told that this wasn't available. I subsequently asked for the Manchester United versus Tottenham game happening this weekend, only to be told that this wasn't available either. I did point out that they were advertising every United game, and received another blank look, so I took my pint to a seat in a corner.
The room in which I was ensconced was low ceilinged, with dangerous looking beams, and a variety of brass items nailed to them, along with a humorous sign about ducking or grousing. There were three other people in the bar area, all men. Previous experience has taught me to avoid looking at other people in pubs, as they either hit you or, worse, talk to you. Instead I attempted to do the Spoof crossword, a tricky beast indeed, made more difficult by the table at which I was sat having one leg two inches shorter than the others and being covered in a sticky substance that served no purpose other than ensuring nobody stole the beermats.
After finishing the drink, I decided to try another, as there was still some time before my bus arrived. On this occasion, I partook of Habitual Reminisces, a flavoursome beer of a deep brown. On returning to my table, I discovered that my crossword had been filled in for me and I could no longer lift the newspaper from the table. Instead I read the bar food menu, which made me feel a little peckish, so I finished my drink quickly and returned to the bar, ordering the lasagne al verde and a pint of Yelping Buffalo.
I had somehow managed to make my way through the Yelping Buffalo as well as Hanging Hordes and Speckled Tiger before my lasagne arrived in what can only be described as a thermonuclear container. This was useful as the lasagne was hotter than lava and I could hear the table hissing as I watched it bubble in unusual colours. My fork started to melt as it approached the food, so I had a Jalapeño Curse followed by a Clicking Cricket.
By point this, my food was coolling enough to ate. Howevber, the flavour it had, could be desribed as tongue destroying, but I eat it, and washed it down with a Pickled Goat and an Unusual Tightrope. This kept the lasagane from cooming back, but I realised Id missed anuther bus, so I had a Whistling Nun to past the tyme. That was the nicest beer I'd ever had, so I had too moor.
Many more ppole had come in by thiss tiome and it took me nearly several minutes to order a Earphone Calculus, so I fugired I'd best order the Six Six Six and hte Heated Argument whils tI were their. The pork skratchings sounded ideal at this pint, er point, so I got a bag, and asked if the barmaid had a telephone number I could riung her on hher day offff cos she was so attrasctive. I'm guessingh I muss have loose the paper, cos I dunno were it is know.
At some point I muss ave pissed er passed out, cos I was back outside getting wet., luckly mi buss arived so I got in it and went home. I give the White Lion four out of five stars, it would have got 5, but theyh never did show the united games I'd asked four/.