If you’re in London this month, you’re probably excited about Annie the Owl, a pop up bar that will be open for only one week. You are also probably a crazy person.
The draw of the bar is that you get to drink with owls. For those of you who don’t know, owls are huge, scary birds that can see you in the dark, and have long talons that could slice you up in a fraction of a second. A place filled with these flying death machines seems like a good place to drink, doesn’t it?
Now, the bar has cut the service of all alcohol in response to concerns from animal rights groups. So you can’t even enjoy the bar for the reason you’re there: to get drunk.
When you buy a bottle of something, you expect to get what the label says is in the bottle. Only the lowest forms of life would defraud at thirsty sot.
In Backpool, England, a man has been charged with selling fake liquor. To be fair, he was selling it in a designated area in town where there are slot machines, so people probably knew it wasn’t on the up-and-up in the first place. However, according to authorities, the man sold sealed bottles of Jack Daniel’s whiskey and Smirnoff vodka that were actually filled with water. Worse yet, the bottles of Jack contained human urine and feces, probably for color.
But let’s be clear, the most heinous crime of all is selling fake hootch. Do they still draw and quarter people over there?
When it comes to the holidays, Americans aren’t the only ones who gorge themselves. In fact, our former mother country tops us in it, so much so that they clog not just toilets, but sewers.
Every Christmas, or whatever they call it over there, the London sewer system gets even more clogged than usual with what can only be described as “fatbergs.” Everything remotely solid that Londoners flush or send down the drains daily, from fat left over from cooking, to wipes, to solid waste, congeals and causes sewers to slow down, even threatening them from over flowing. And it gets worse around the holidays.
Now try watching Love Actually.
The Holy Grail maybe missing, but at least we now know that it’s not somewhere in an English pub.
Bobbies searched a village pub in Herefordshire, England, trying to locate an old wooden cup believed by some to be the cup that Jesus sipped from at the Last Supper. The cup, which spent centuries in a Welsh mansion by monks to hide it from King Henry VIII, had been stolen about a month ago. Authorities had a tip that it might be in the bar.
Or maybe Robert Langdon just got a little thirsty.
The Brits don’t do well after being eliminated from the World Cup.
According to startling reports, commuters in Yorkshire, England, had to deal with the age-old hazard of mashed potatoes on the road on Monday. A truck dumped about a quarter of its load of mashed potatoes for some reason, and drivers just had to deal with it until firefighters figured out a way to remove it.
The questions abound. Were the potatoes mashed already, or did the cars do that? How did they taste? Why does there exist a truck carrying nothing but mashed potatoes? How much gravy had to be used? We may never know.
Breaking away from merry ol’ Blighty was a decision that paid off. Sure, mind you, in the United States, we have the state of Florida, but at least our men don’t continuously play Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.” Because in Strood, England, that definitely goes down.
After his neighbors complained, Gareth Davies had all of his audio equipment (a 3D tv, a laptop, speakers and a PS3) confiscated by the Medway Council. All due to Davies playing Dion’s hit song from the Titanic soundtrack. Seems like a little harsh, right? It was found that Davies had ignored six prior notices about the noise. Oh. That’s a lot of leniency given to an obsession over a song.
We’ve heard unconfirmed rumors that René Angélil has contacted the Medway Council, asking if they’d give his house the same ruling.
It seems like a cliché at this point, because it’s in movies all the time: a cop shows up at the door during a party and the person who answers mistakes the police officer for a stripper. Turns out, it happens in real life.
In England, a 27-year-old man and his friends had been drinking and getting rowdy in a pub when the police came in to investigate. (Because it’s England, and you have no rights.) The man took a female cop for a stripper and began dancing in front of her (because in England, you dance for the strippers) and slapping her with a bar towel.
The man was of course arrested, but refused to believe that she wasn’t a stripper until they arrived at the police station.
The good news is, her phobia will die soon.
A woman in England has an intense fear of newspapers, so much that she cannot even look at them, according to reports, granted they are from British newspapers, so it could be made up. For about 25 years, Diane Freelove has had chloephobia, and it’s gotten worse as time goes on. At one point, she only needed to wash her hands after holding a newspaper, now she hates the smell of them.
On the list of irrational fears, this is not one of them.
There’s a town in England where no one gets a good night’s sleep. They go to bed, they fall asleep, but then all of a sudden, a hum pulsates through the homes, disturbing all of the residents. It has gotten so bad that some people have left the area just so they can sleep.
Turns out, it’s a type of fish in the river trying to hook up. Male Midshipman fish try to hum to attract females, and the hum is so low that it carries out of the water and into buildings. Also, they just like to mess with us.
The United States Postal Service has a saying:
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.
Now, said postmen have used a variety of other reasons to prevent your mail from coming to you, but regardless, they’re a fairly brave folk. Not so much for our counterparts over the pond.
The mail for Stuart Robertson-Reed had stopped being delivered to him and all because of arachnids. Potentially one or potentially a legion of them. Whatever the amount, per his postman, a massive web is in the front gate and won’t be delivered until something is done. Luckily, one brave postal worker thought the situation was manageable and sent the mail on.
Does England have a spider uprising? Can we even count on postal workers in the war? Troubling times, my friends. Troubling times.