Don’t queue at an empty bar

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Two things happened last week which should never ever ever have been allowed to happen.

One was the Brexit delay, a lead balloon we’d all seen falling some weeks earlier and which landed with a dull, almost weary, thud. It was an anticlimax to rival Qatar being named hosts of the 2022 World Cup.

But let’s not get into that too much in this column as I am well aware of everyone’s ‘Br-exhaustion’ levels.

The other thing which should never have happened was some random people forming a queue at a bar, even though most of the bar frontage was empty. Yes, you read that right. And yes, I agree, it’s just plain wrong.

Said incident happened while I was on holiday in Primrose Valley, which, incidentally turned out to be one of the most relaxing and enjoyable holidays we’ve had in ages - my 10-year-old even called it ‘the fanciest holiday he’s ever been on’, basically because they had three swimming pools, one of which included a massive tilting bucket which periodically unleashed a deluge of water upon those stood below.

The Haven site there has several bars and we were in the Live Lounge. It was rammed and reminded me of those gatherings you sometimes end up going to at working men’s clubs, just with ten times more people.

The aforementioned ‘bar queue’ situation happened not once but twice.

On the first occasion, I failed miserably to notice the small line of people off to my right as I sauntered up to the empty bar and proceeded to accost a bartender to place my drinks order.

It was only while I was waiting for said drinks and I glanced to my right that I saw the looks of barely contained frustration upon those pour souls who had mistakenly decided that the proper way to order drinks at a bar is to form an orderly queue, with the first person standing several feet back from the serving point, arms folded, brow furrowed. Obviously, the correct way to order drinks at a bar in Britain (seeing as we’ve as yet had no EU diktat on the subject) is to find yourself an empty bit of mahogany and lean in, money clenched in hand like some bizarre avian mating ritual, as you attempt to catch ye olde bartender’s eye.

The second time it happened, I stupidly ended up joining the queue. I was then forced to wait a long time and watch as several other punters approached the mostly empty bar front, ordered their drinks and then left.