Roebuck Inn (Winchester)

Bambi

Being a cute young deer has its advantages. AND its disadvantages.

Take yesterday for example. This little old-lady approached me in the street - all smiles n wrinkles - and said, “oooooh, hello dear,” like we’re old friends or something. That happens to me quite a lot.

“I’m not your dear,” I retorted furiously. “MY NAME IS BAMBI. And I AM a deer. And YOU madam, are a presumptuous old cow.”

Surprising old people with my bad attitude; that’s one of the advantages of being a cute little deer!

On the down side though, I have to say I could do without the paranoia; the paranoia that comes on the receiving end of a relentless pursuit.

There’s this one guy right, and he’s always on my case. He’s a vet and he’s got me in his sights (although fortunately never gun sights - yet). And when I tell you the fruitcake is a ‘vet', I don’t mean he's no animal doctor; he’s a vet of the thousand-yard-stare Vietnam variety.

Back in London his obsession with me got so bad, I had to leave town completely. It was just too dangerous hanging around Old Deer Park in Richmond eating berries. So I de-camped to this dump - Winchester. Been here for a week now.

When I arrived, I decided to blend into my surroundings; by day I run the fields around north Winchester acting frightened and eating leaves; in the evening, I started coming down the Roebuck Inn. Seeing as it had a deer on the sign, I thought I’d blend in.

Do I like it? Well, the paranoia is less intense, now that I’m out of London. But if I’m honest, the Roebuck strikes me as a microcosm of all that’s wrong with 21st century boozing.

You see, pubs should be places for young bucks to strut their stuff; lager tops, pool tables, fruities and fighting, that sort of thing. But in the 21st century it’s all family-friendly, no smoking, gastro-nonsense. It’s dreary couples, Katie Melua through the speakers and dead-end conversations about Eastenders and Strictly Come Dying.

Sure, the Roebuck boasts a few die-hard barflies breathing heavily, raging against the machine. But they’re (we’re) headed for extinction.

Worst of all, gastros stink (literally ? metaphorically ? – take your pick). I’ve been in some smelly pubs since the cigarette ban - and the Roebuck doesn’t hold a torch to The Blackfriar in London - but it reeks nonetheless. For an animal with a strong sense of smell (and glands behind the nose, so says 'deer' in Wikipedia) that’s a real problem. Give me smoke and stale tobacco over nose-wrenching vinegar any day.

Don’t even get me onto the service. Sure, it’s fine if you want to eat (go to a flippin’ restaurant); lousy if you WANT TO BUY A DRINK.

I used to get served PDQ in London on account of my novelty presence at the bar. Quadruped on hind legs,…. lots of swearing ….. waving fivers around…. That kinda thing. Here though, I thought I saw tumbleweed blowing in the aisle behind the bar, there’s so little action. I guess the barmaids are just too busy fetching tartar sauce for table three, than to serve customers at the bar with a note in their hoof.

Tonight was so bad, I nearly took a swerve to the Albion. I didn’t in the end. But now, I’m probably the only punter here, sitting at a table with a pint of lager top - not a plate of nonsense.

* Barmaid arrives at Bambi’s table *

“Hello dear, can I get you something from the menu?”

* Bambi avoids temptation to be rude – for she is young and pretty*

(sighing): “Bambi’s the name love, and I’ve been on the leaves today…..But I dunno… I am a bit peckish….”

Barmaid (pointing to menu): “Well, how about trying the special burgers; they are very popular? Fresh AND locally sourced.”

Bambi: “Okay….okay….can't beat 'em, join 'em….. let’s have a look-see shall we ……special burgers you say?… that sounds interesting…..hmmm…. oh yeah … that’s wicked… made with locally produced venison. Bring me some of that”

* Barmaid takes crossbow out from under her pinny and fires an arrow straight between Bambi’s eyes *

Barmaid: “Coming right up - dear.”

Bambi’s rating for the Roebuck (before being shot dead) – 4 / 10

Sputnikski

The deer hunter is on Bambi's trail. read more here

• View by pub
• View by reviewer
• View by place

• Natural Selection,..

  “,….. Why didn’t they live to be 100?Huh? Well, they woz running round all day, hunting mammoths, eating berries,..rumping their little hearts out. No boozing or smoking. They must have been fit as fiddles. Yer Neanderthalls……….I’ll tell you why, it’s … Continue reading →