Twelve Pins (Finsbury Park)

Bobby Robson (Italia 90)

Service you say? Service! You say that punters aren't getting the service that they need in pubs thesedays? Well, maybe you're right. But twenty years ago, it was a different story all together.....Sit down young man, and let me tell you a little story about 'Service' and about a young man named 'Paul,..'

Picture the scene. I was managing a distressed looking Irish boozer in Finsbury Park back in those days. It was a Friday night in June if i remember rightly, and things were looking bad....

,...The pub was packed and The Micks were running us ragged. Empty glasses on every table there were,.. three deep at the bar it was, and we'd numerous unattended Hobos in situ! I had an inkling that it could end up like this, if we didn't bolster the midfield.

The bar lads had only been together as a group for a week or so,...dole office commitments etc, and the language barrier was always going to be a problem. I could see that they were visibly tiring almost immediately,..and especially as we moved into the later part of the evening. So I took the executive decision to bring on Gazza.

Daft as a brush I know. But he has that type of special magic that only a few possess, and that others can only dream of. The lad can turn a bar service around with just a little shimmy of the hips,…and he was my trump card.

The Irish, as we know, are the toughest of opponents at the best of times,..there is a lot of history there after all, and these guys certainly know how to drink. A coupla big fellas up front they had, and a few wirey little chaps nipping in around the sides. Dangerous.

If you ask me, the dark haired lad that they had up front - ordering the sambucas - was of dubious heritage really. I mean, he said 'Por Favor' when he ordered, and 'Danke' when given his change. But that's just 'Pubbing' today I guess! His Nan may have been from Dundalk, but his Mother and Father certainly liked a bit of the old Chorizo, if you know what I mean Pedro!

So anyhow. Yeah,.. I threw in Gazza. And his impact was immediate.

All over it he was. Bitters, Shandies, Bitter-Shandies, Cocktails, Sherries, the works. He was topping Fosters like there was no tomorrow,..and even pulled a Rock Shandy out of nowhere at one point. The boy was on fire.

Before I sent him in, I remember saying to him, "Keep an eye on the big lad at the back over by the fruit machine. He's an animal' I said, 'A real twenty pints a night fella, and he doesn't take any prisoners.'

'Boss' he said, 'don't worry, smoke your cigar. I'll take care of the big lad!'

And do you know what?....He did! Straight off the bat, he served him up with two large G and T's and a Magners, before the guy could even get the Twenty out of his pocket!

Now, that's talent! I remember thinking. You can't buy that type of action! It's the type of stuff that Landlords dream of, and that the punters come to see.

Magic.

Next up, he's worked his way down the left hand side of the bar and is chatting up some middle aged spinsters,..plying them with Sherry/keeping em giggling, whilst holding down a conversation about Ricky Hatton with a coupla Gypos under the big screen TV,…….All the time,..he's serving up the drinks - keeping the till active. Adding value by encouraging complementary purchases - Pringles and Johnnies.

I only went to the toilet for a couple of minutes, and then when I came back, I couldn't see him behind the bar. I had a moment of panic when I thought that he had gone on one of his wanders, but then I scanned further around the bar and sure enough, there he was by the peanuts,..making song selections - totally running the whole Juke Box scene.

'Genesis' he was shoutin, 'Collins is the man' and all that. The punters were loving it and the Irish were bullied into submission.

More or less 'Game Over' at this point, I said to myself. 

After a while an old boy came up to the bar and ordered a huge round of Black and Tan's. Unphased by the terminology and already well and truly 'in the zone', Gazza leapt into action and commenced dispensing,..bottles and pint glasses everywhere. A massive order it was. Despatched with clinical pace. Mayhem, but totally controlled.

What do you know though. When Gazza turned round to take the cash for the order,….the old man had gone.

'Gazza', I said, 'Come ere Son. It's a common thing, is this', I told him afterwards. 'In the barman game, you need to learn quickly that these things can happen,..people will always try and take you for a ride. In that situation, the fella has painted the town red with you! 'He's 65', i said, 'you're only 37,..to be honest, he's made a mug out of you there. 'Don't be a Fall Guy,..don't be a Stooge!' I told him. 'Now let's put it behind us', i said, 'and move on'.

And to be fair to the lad, so he did!! He picked his head straight back up and fired on through the rest of the evenings service without pausing for breath,..or without missing a single raised eyebrow or hand. We sold more drinks that night than St Patricks Day and New Years Eve combined.

Job done.

When the bell for last orders went, Gazza (knowing that the nights work was done) grabbed a full bottle of Bells Whiskey and chinned it in one.

But sometimes you need that.

Bobby Robson's rating for The Twelve Pins - 10/10

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