pub review

Punch and Judy (Covent Garden)

Champion the Wonder Horse

champion I know it's not right, but what's a horse to do when he's in love.

Man loves woman (or man), dog loves bitch (or dog), cock loves hen (or cock). That's the way it is; that's the way it should be. Period.

But before you judge me, ask yourself a question; what would you do if your affair de la coeur crossed strict evolutionary boundaries like the Owl and the Pussy Cat? How would you cope with emotions running as high as for a sugar-lump lottery winner?

Let me explain: I'm a horse, and he's a dog.  That's the reality. And yes, it's a homosexual thing, but I hardly think that's relevant; this is 2007 for goodness sake.

I know what you're thinking too. Champion the Wonder Horse went and fell for Rebel, his tenacious Alsatian side-kick. Wrong, wrong, wrong (oh, it's all so wrong) and a lesson in not pre-judging gay horses, something you hets are all too prone to do.

Truth is, I couldn't stand that loud-mouthed yob. Off-camera, he was an animal. Not just being a canine, no this was more to do with his drink problem. That dog lapped it up in bucketfuls. And when he wasn't lapping his beer, he was licking his own privates, the dirty little swine.

The object of my affections is an altogether more whimsical pooch. This devine apparition was more difficult to pin down than that idiot Rebel. My 'rebel' was a true free spirit, a dog without roots, like middle-aged men who leave their wives to take up surfing in Newquay.

I'll level with you; the diminutive hobo and me; we spent the night together, just the once and then he was gone.

It was heavenly experience. All I'm going to tell you is this. For a dog, he was a stallion. After we'd made love, I watched him sleeping in the hay, gently defecating on the ground next to him.

First thing in the morning though he was scratching about the barn. He seemed pensive, barking about a hat he'd misplaced and how he needed to find it before he could settle down. I presumed he'd gone to search for this elusive chapeau - maybe bringing back some coffee and croissants - but he never returned.

He may have lost his hat, but I've lost more. And I've been searching ever since.

Then, by chance, last week I was checking out www.gay-nag-about-town.co.uk and learned that my little flea-carrier was in London, filming a documentary. He'd been spotted in Covent Garden playing with a stick. (God, what joie de vivre!)

That was it. I headed straight for the capital (I live in Surrey), to tell him how I feel. I arrived in Covent Garden with terrible butterflies (and horseflies) knowing this might be my only shot at happiness.

My assumption was thus: sooner or later he'll find his way to the Punch and Judy in Covent Garden. Tourists always go there first, not knowing what a truly ghastly pub it is.

But even if he didn't make the Punch, I could use its pub balcony to watch and wait, combing the streets of CG for my doggy darling.

So I went there. Spent a good ten minutes climbing the stairs to get to the balcony. Despite some cruel comments about the size of my rump and a narrow staircase, I made it to the top. After three hours and five pints on the balcony, I spotted him. Sniffing round a tramp.

"Oh you-hoo," I neighed excitedly. "Hobo my darling, it's me. Champion the Wonder Horse. I've come to win you back.... I love you.... Neeeeiiiiiiggggghhhhh."

I saw him glance up; and I'm sure he recognised me. Then my world fell apart. He looked back down, stopped to pee up against a lamp-post, woofed a bit and was off.

Nothing much to report after that. Naturally my equine heart was broken, so I took it out on the bar. Ordered so many Fosters that I ended up 'letting myself down' and deliberately flicked my stool-stained tail in the face of a customer, bits flying off like an arrow from a bow.

Then I started staggering around, singing at the top of my voice. I can't remember exactly what the song was but it was something like this;

".... I'M A MIGHTY C..C...CANON BALL ...YOU'LL HEAR ABOUT ME EVERYWHERE YOU GO……… TOSSERS!...... EVERY SWINGIN' PRANNIE WILL KNOW THE NAME OF CHAMPION THE WONDER HORSE."

It took 20 people to carry me down into the waiting police van. What do I care though. Incarcerate me all you like. I'm already in hell, a homosexual dog in a horse's body.

Neigh....

Champion the Wonder Horse's rating for the Punch and Judy - 1 / 10

Sputnikski

Is Hobo interested? Is he hell. Read more here

Comment Posted on 07 Jan 2008 by Emu (sans Hull)

Some do a rising trot,..others just like to dressage. Vive la difference Ned!

Comment Posted on 07 Jan 2008 by Emu (sans Hull)

Some do a rising trot,..others just like to dressage. Vive la difference Ned!

Comment Posted on 11 Jan 2008 by Les Dennis

This is the best review on here, by a country mile.

Informative and entertaining,..I for instance, am never gonna bang a dog again. Not worth the hassle.

Your Name:

Your Email:

Your Comment:

Falling down the blog
  • 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

Map

picture of Punch and Judy (Covent Garden) 40 The Market, The Piazza London

40 The Market, The Piazza

London

WC2E 8RF