Grumpy Dwarf (Snow White)

Dickens Tavern (Paddington)

No matter what people say, prejudice is still rife these days, even in London’s sprawling metropolis.

Scouring the TV guide the other day I saw a review that rated a certain programme, “15”, with the narrative “Warning – May contain dwarves”.  Cheeky bastards.

"No one's ever gonna pay a dime to see a dwarf picture." I heard someone say once, and  I’ll tell ya, its that type of nonsense that we are up against (at groin level), on a daily basis here in London. Sometimes it feels like us dwarves get treated even worse than ginger muslims!

Like almost everything, it gives me the right hump.

Suffice to say that, me and my six mates (brothers?), have to be pretty selective about where we booze. When you’re three foot nine in your trainers, you’ve gotta go where you feel comfortable, where you’re accepted for who you are,..Where they have kids urinals.

That’s why, on those days when we all fancy ditching the old mine for the day, me and the lads head down The Dickens.

*Sssssh don’t tell, you know who!*

“Heigh ho, heigh ho,..how little does she know,….”

No one bats an eyelid when me march (single file) into The Dickins, and that’s why we like it.

Northern knuckle draggers, buying CDs (or some such) from wideboys, mingle with oblivious tourists, whilst students and booze-bums argue the toss about whether this is, in fact, the longest bar in Britain (I’m unsure myself, but it looks pretty big from where I’m standing!).

Needless to say, you don’t have to be dressed like Regis Philbin to get in.

So usually, once we’ve stacked up at the bar, we head for a trouble-free game of pool downstairs.

I say trouble-free, and it usually is. Apart from last Thursday afternoon:

Me and Doc, and Happy and Sneezy were playing doubles pool against a coupla northern roofers, and it was all going fine.

*I was relieved to be paired up with Doc this time - hoisting up Happy whilst he cued up his screw shots nearly ruined my lumbar region last time out!*

I was holding Doc as he lined up a tuck-up, when one of the roofers said (in passing), how Doc was “Not bad at all,..For a pixie”.

*Now you’ve gotta understand. Calling a dwarf a pixie is like calling a moose a troll. It's simply not done.*

Before I could say a word, Doc had launched himself off my shoulders and directly at the roofers. His momentum sent me towards the floor and I called for Sleepy, Bashful and Dopey to help out… (no reply). As I tried to pull myself up, I realised that my beard was stuck in the coin tray of the table,..I was trapped.

,…. Unable to look round at the action, I could only listen to the fight playing out behind me. It sounded brutal.

I felt sorry for the roofers. Doc was administering some reeeeeal treatment!

After a while, I covered my ears and waited for it all to end,..It was Doc who finally cut me free.

,……………….Goatee.

The roofers were fine after a day or so, and we’ve played them since (6-0 to us), there are no hard feelings.

You see, everyone is welcome back, in The Dickens Inn, so long as you shake hands afterwards and stand your round.

“The Dickens Inn – May contain dwarves.”

As we often sing, down the mine:  “If you can’t stand your round, get out of the Dickens (or get someone taller to get it for you).”

Grumpy's rating for The Dickins Inn – 7 / 10

Rolosocosy

Bashful Dwarf's review of Sawyer's Arms