Duke of Wellington (Portobello Road)

Invisible Man

I used to have a bit of a bar-presence problem on account of the fact that I’m completely see-through. Even in post-nuclear shades and stupid hat it would take me flipping ages to get served.

Frustrating? Too right. Bad enough being a genetic freak. 

But then, I came across what I thought would be a solution. It came to me while watching “TV’s 100 greatest twats” on the Dave channel.

They'd got to number 53 - Timmy Mallett. Remember him? Star of Mallett’s Mallet back in the 90s?

Boy he was one suave son of a bitch. Talk about a snappy dresser. Bright colours, bold glasses and the sort of personality that you couldn’t help but warm to. A big foam prop too boot? - utterly brilliant, as the man himself might have said in his day.

As soon as I watched him whacking kids on the head with his soft hammer, I knew exactly what to do. Take his bold approach to stage presence and apply it to the boozer.

I started donning as much clobber as I could, a la mode de la Mallett. And to begin with it worked a treat. Amazed staff just couldn’t wait to get me a pint when I rolled up to the bar looking like that. And other punters couldn't clear a path to the bar quickly enough. Like that fella Moses and the Red Sea incident.

Job done, I reckoned. Never again would I be ignored. Wrong. Oh so wrong.

I hadn't reckoned on the Duke of Wellington in Portobello Road. It’s a pretty innocuous place and there wasn’t a sole inside when I arrived. Straight up to the bar, I knew the service would be swift; there was a bloke 'working' behind the bar after all, not doing very much at all.

Utterly brilliant!

There I stood, Mallett in hand, grinning inanely and bobbing from side to side like a maniac; waiting to order my Fosters-top.

Nothing happened. it was like the  bloke couldn't see me.

I started to wonder if the invisible-ness thing had got worse - maybe rubbed off onto my clothes. After all, the chap behind the bar couldn’t have been more than five feet away. But no, I could see my  flowery shirt and pink mallet plain as plain could be. So it couldn't be that.

Maybe it was a problem with the barman’s eyesight?

Wrong again. While I was waiting, a trader from the other side of the road came into the pub and asked for help shifting a sign. Off the barman trotted, like a faithful dog.

I couldn’t believe it. There I was standing there like a twot (albeit looking pretty damn dapper) with a tenner in one hand and a big foam mallet in the other. And the barman goes to help his mate move a sign. Utterly brilliant  - NOT.

I should’ve left, But I stuck around long enough for another surprise - £3.60 for my pint. Don’t get me wrong, everyone knows that a good Fosters top is worth paying for. But £3.60? Do me a favour.

I handed over cash for the first pint, but took revenge for the second. Went to the khasi, took off all my Mallett-related clobber, slipped behind the bar (all invisible like) and served myself a freebie. Cheers!

Strictly speaking I know what I did is illegal. But prices and service in the Duke of Wellington. Well, they’re plain criminal.

Invisible Man’s rating for the Duke of Wellington 1 / 10

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