Coach and Horses (Covent Garden)

The Scarecrow (Wizard of Oz)

*A packed review featuring Stringfellow Hawke (Airwolf), Michael Knight (Knight Rider), Kitt the Car (Knight Rider), Robocop(e), Champion the Wonder Horse and the Littlest Hobo*

If I only had a brain, I’d have come to the Coach and Horses in the first place. But I don’t and, besides, I wasn’t the one who drove to wrong end of Covent Garden. I was just “the walking bedding”, bundled into the boot of that daft, talking car, alongside a bag of sugar lumps and a bunch of carrots.

“Will you be alwright in there Scarecrow me old mucker?” said Stringfellow pretending I had a choice.

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” I’d lied at the outset.

I won’t go into details, but, suffice it to say, I was out in London’s West-End, unwittingly part of a posse on the trail of a fallen TV-star called Champion, himself hopelessly pursuing a (small) homeless dog called Hobo.

It’s all the fall-out from a failed cross-species relationship – unrequited love - that makes me shudder when I think about it. Which isn’t good cos little bits of straw fall from my already depleted frame whenever I shake.

Ya see, Champion’s best mates with Michael Knight. And Knight’s the berk with the leathers and the ‘fro who drives that talking Kitt-car.

Knight was dead worried for his mate’s state of mind which was why he’d organised the trip. And then there’s this dude Stringfellow – Michael’s mate. Well, he’s a big fan of London, and fancied some turbo charged action.

Champion had called Knight’s mobile in a bit of a state. Said he was “all tanked and love-sick” in a pub in Covent Garden. He’s never one to swerve a distress call (old Michael). So that’s why we ended up here,..on the West side of the market.

On arrival it was the usual embarrassment. Knight did the doughnut routine (for the theatre goers) and Kitt blasted the old whooo-whooo with his flashing lights. Hawke was screaming like he’d just stormed Hanoi. Show-offs, with not a second’s thought for muggins in the boot.

Course, the spinning sent all the carrots and sugar flying didn’t it! My own carrot (my nose) came off in the melee, and a new one got grafted up my jacksie by the G-force, like some bright orange butt-plug. Geez, I sensed this would be a bad day. *If I only had a brain, I would’ve done a runner during the bog stop at Fleet Services.*

As usual a crowd gathered round the ponce-car and Knight and Hawke sprang out like a pair of proud Zebedees - storming off to first pub they clapped eyes on - the Punch and Judy. I followed, stumbling left and right, collapsing in an occasional heap. The tourists loved it; thought I was a comedy street turn, laughing at my ass-nose covered in bits of sugar.

*If I only had a stomach, it’d have turned. Except I don’t, ‘cause I’m a man of straw.*

,..I’d had enough at that point. I couldn’t even give a monkeys what happened to the horse – or the dog for that matter. Neither was my mate; so I decided to swerve it.

Not knowing the area (and after having heard the advert on Kitt’s radio), I put in a call to “Robocope”. Well, he certainly was a lovely chap, Robo, and he seemed to know his stuff; he sent me straight over to the other side of the market; telling me to ‘stay out of trouble’. There, he said, I’d find two decent pubs, The Marquis of Anglesey and the The Coach and Horses.

And I tell you what; that “Robocope” service really is top drawer. The Coach and Horses? Well, I could have easily walked past it, without my “Insider knowledge”, and my first impressions are that Robo was right - it IS a cosy, quirky, regulars little pub - right in the heart of chaos central! With a decent landlord and bar manager to boot.

They said nothing as I fell through the front door, stumbled through the bar, and fell headfirst down the stairs into the bog. But once I’d collected myself and clambered back to the bar, I saw genuine concern for my well-being,…for the first time that day!

“Are you alright young fella?” said the landlord. “Gez, what happened to yer hooter? Come over here and sit down will ya! You look like you’ve had a rough day...”

“Too right I replied,” and pulled up a stool by the bar (to be greeted by more smiling faces).

“What can I get you mate?” said Michael the bar manager, after giving me time to settle.

“Pint of Guinness please. Now,..where’d I put my money.”

If I only had a brain, I’d have been to the cash-point first.

Scarecrow’s rating for the Coach and Horses – 9 / 10

Sputnikski

Read Champion's sad story here. Warning - it's a real tear-jerker

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