BLOW HARD BIG HEART : Britain’s second most famous pub landlord, Tim Martin, has used a press spot to increase the Earth’s CO2 count by several million gaseous cubic litres. But when he wasn’t attempting to make up for the lost gas output of the global industrial shutdown, he offered reassurance for his staff.
“I agree with Stanley [Johnson] clearly,” our fictional and entirely made up landlord blew, “people should keep going to the boozer during the bloody bout of the fffing sniffles. Beer soaked carpets and atmospheres full of piss and wind destroy SARS-1 and SARS-2 on contact. Only people who don’t believe in Britain don’t believe that. Traitors. Faaaaaaark! What’s a toothbrush?”
As to how the staff of his landmark pubs will fare, should pubs be closed and they find themselves without work, Mr Martin had words of comfort.
“So called medical scientists aren’t any much for British ingenuity and blitz spirit,” he harpooned the present reality, “I will not lay off one of my workers. I will pay them to turn up, sit at tables and wait on each other. Witheringspoons will remain open throughout this silly panic over a blocked nose. Know what unblocks a blocked nose? A pint of stale ale and a meat of dubious origin curry! That’s what!”
But how will he pay the staff of the pubs don’t have any actual paying customers providing revenue?
“In beer mats,” Mr Martin spouted like the whale of fate clearing the snot from its blowhole, “clearly, if they follow my advice most of my regulars will be in ICU on ventilators. So we won’t be getting through too many beer mats. The staff can use them as exchange tokens on the black market after complete societal collapse sometime in August.”
“And I can reassure you, every one of my Withering Spoons that hasn’t closed for want of patronage by August, will remain open until the very end of the zombie apocalypse. Now get down the bloody pub and risk catching Covid-19 like a real man!”