Alcohol strips people raw and as a result of permanent exposure to a pure source, long term bartenders tend to be junkies for humanity. Craving a drug they mistrust, leaving them simultaneously some of the biggest misanthropes, but at the same time socially inclined people you will meet. Regulars are a particularly rich source of amusement and hatred. Here is the second in an occasional series of regulars I have had the mixed pleasure of having to serve.

Stan – Stan was a tanned tramp who never removed his reflective aviator shades, wore the same charity shop clothes everyday and carried a grey head size shoulder bag, a classic serial killer type. An overwhelming greasy musk followed Stan where ever he went and we hypothesized that the smell came from the bag, more accurately we thought it was his wife’s head IN his bag that stank. He drank the cheapest bitter available which he paid for with warm, slightly damp coins, he drank it silently and alone staring at the kids play area with piggy eyes from behind those creepy mirrored shades.

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