I am saddened to hear another old chum died on Saturday at 56 of a brain tumour.
I missed you when I left England and now forever more.
I met him at The Colony Room in 2006 and became addicted to him. When that folded I followed him about.
If you have ever had a cocktail almost anywhere in the world there is a good chance Dick Bradsell had something to do with it. There are hundreds of articles online about him so you you can find out for yourself.
Here are two rare photos of him in The Colony
(No Photos, No Phones, No fuckin' Jokes)
I think he was showing me a bill, or a writ.
Changing the loo paper roll in a hurry
And here he is sounding like himself and Grayson Perry
NEW YORK TIMES
He once said that of all the bars where he had worked, his favorite was the Colony Room, a famously divey den where the likes of the artists Francis Bacon and Lucian Freud went to slum and where shaking cocktails was discouraged.
“The owner hating me making cocktails so much, he used to hide my equipment,” Mr. Bradsell said in an interview. When a fellow bartender arrived, he said, he improvised and used his fingers to strain his friend’s drink.
It doesn't happen too often thankfully, given my propensity for frequenting bars of notoriety, that I get into an unresolvable disagreement with a fellow fool. Thus it was last Saturday that a gentlemanly disagreement compelled me to turn a chair over a chap of minimimilist logic. He left quickly.
I felt badly afterwards but felt much worse when a fellow patron of the bar pointed out the poorly executed alteration the fleeing fuck-wit had made to my jacket. I was however relieved that I managed retain some dignity; my silk pocket square stayed in place during the entire cuffufle.
I usually remove my hat before embarkation, as this usually signals to any fellow wrangler of my unhappy intentions, i.e. To instill a firm understanding of “The Gooobye Look.” He shall be hearing from my Tailor!
On a trip to stock up on yet more booze the other day I spied this tea bag box looking curio of small whisky imbibements. What are they? Who cares? Look at the packaging. They could be emergency Break-Open viles, or safety sachets for secretion on those dreary trips to rehab, or perhaps an ever so convenient vacuum packed “Quick Hit” hypodermic syringe of 40% idiot elixir.
In any case I made the mistake of not buying a box. The price was discouragingly more expensive than the purchase of a bottle of DRINK ANYTIME&ANYWHERE SOMETHINGTHINGELSEBIGGER.
However, upon reflection I concede that despite my initial judgements on how gimmicky this product appears, it may well have some very serious applications in the workplace e.g: Ambulance and Train Drivers, Prison Officers and Air Traffic Controllers and just about any professional that has to deal with difficult periods of time between pub stops.
As an afterthought I am now pondering as to whether the Avatar Blue brand was inspired by the blue faced 3D mandrills of the monstrously ugly film Avatar? Or not. I'm not really sure I care, as blue whiskey in a condom is a winner by me, I shall be stocking up next week.