THE drinks are in but the twat who paid for them looks f**king livid. Find out if their rage is your fault:
Who are you ordering for?
A) Just me, because I am a reasonable person.
B) Just me, and a couple of mates who will be along in a bit. And their partners and apparently Crazy Phil might be coming, and he likes a large one.
What size drink did you ask for?
A) A half. I can always get a pint myself later.
B) A yard. It comes in a f**k off massive beer flute, which I think looks really cool and not at all twatty.
What is the alcohol percentage?
A) Zero. I’ve given up booze for Lent. A lime and soda only costs a quid.
B) It’s in the mid twenties. That’s normal for 250ml of natural, organic wine though.
Is your drink from an independent brewery?
A) No. Unless Copella moonlights as an independent brewery.
B) Yes. It’s made in very small batches by an artisanal brewer in a remote Icelandic village and imported at enormous expense. But you can really taste the glacier melt, so it’s worth the extra.
Did you ask for snacks?
A) Not this time. I’m trying to lose weight.
B) Of course. Four bags of crisps and some pistachio nuts. They’re all for me, not the table. Try to make me share and I will deck you.
Mostly As: Congratulations, you aren’t the scumbag who’s to blame for this expensive round. Although if you’ve asked for a half pint of cloudy apple juice then what the f**k are you even doing here? Piss off and make room for someone who’s actually fun to go to the pub with.
Mostly Bs: So you’re the dickhead behind this pricey round. Everyone hates you right now, but you’ll be completely twatted in half an hour so they will exact their revenge by using you to buy drinks for the rest of the night. You will wake up to a nasty text from your bank saying you’ve rinsed your overdraft.