Life In Scarborough: The Barflies Of Scarborough

So I was sitting in a "Workin' Man's" pub in Scarborough.  The old East Indian guy by the window was a regular; he occupied my favorite table the whole time he was there, the only table in the place where you could plug in your netbook.  After having Vivian the bar-girl (not her real name) call him a cab, and just as the cab pulled up outside, he pissed himself and staggered away and buggered off in it. Later the owner came by with some paper towels and rubber gloves and cleaned up, but nevertheless I was not ready to claim my usual spot.  I exited the place unhappy, my computer uncharged.

And it reminded me of years gone by, when I lived in a ritzier part of Scarborough (Central Scarborough, by the car dealership), and would hang out in the Workin' Man's pubs in that part of town.  My favorite place had this old German guy.  He would spend the whole evening grabbing ass off the various waitresses, and when it came time to go he would piss down his stool and leave a lousy tip.    According to Vivian, the old East Indian also tips poorly.  So the problem appears to be endemic to "The Scar", as we locals call it, or "The Bro", as we also call it for reasons I won't go into.

The barflies of Scarborough really must up their game.