Tag Archives: Land Of The Trout

A stone’s throw away, somewhere on Stokes Croft…

On Saturday the LLF and I went for a drink with her brother, who is newly pitched up in Bristol. After a false start at the Analphoney (“Bit… Pretentious here, isn’t it?”), we moved on to the Land Of The Trout for a more relaxed few rounds (interrupted only by the arrival and departure of a grazing herd of Blues Brothers stags), before heading home.

On the way we stopped off for a few cans of carry-out at The Best, possibly the least appropriately-named store on Stokes Croft. Still, it is open twenty-four hours a day, so who cares if it’s staffed exclusively by obnoxious oafs.

Whilst paying (and BTW, six quid for four Stripes? Are you having a – I believe the word is – bubble?!), the next customer in the queue, a rather handsome chap in his late twenties, well groomed and expensively dressed, turned round to us and with nary a hint of shame, embarrassment or restraint, asked us:

Do you know anywhere around here where I can buy some crack? I really fancy doing a bit of crack.

Well, that’s a question one doesn’t often hear around the streets of BS2. Perhaps he was a stranger in town, here for a business conference with no time to research the local retail landscape.

The LLF looked at him thoughtfully, smiling, before replying:

Aww, why do you want to do that? You look too nice to do crack!*

Leading him to retort (obviously, now that I think of it)…

It’s a fucking good buzz!

And moreish, too.

* Now CONFIRMED as her Very Own Words Spoken Through Her Self Same Beautiful Lips.