Theres a bar down the road from work that leapt in to some empty premises about three seconds after the restaurant previously in there closed down. Im not sure why the previous owners had felt the need to close their establishment, but the new owners clearly felt that some of the main reasons the eaterie had failed was because it didnt have enough bare breasted women on the serving staff.
It didnt – and still doesnt, as far as I know – have a name. Or at least it has never bothered to put a sign up announcing its name – just some brightly coloured pictures of ladies with unzippable clothing, which sit in front of some heavy red velvet cutains blocking any view of the inside, and an large tea-tray sized sign in the window which read
No Other Charges
And I always couldnt help but think that £10 seems a lot for a drink, even in London. Thats the thing, I suppose: people are willing to pay more for a beverage if theres been an off-chance of someones surgically enhanced udder having accidentally dangled in it.
Is that really the case? Really? Does the very presence of an unholstered funbag make cheap lager taste like nectar? Does it really make the difference to your average overpriced evening if there just happen to be women filling the peanut bowls with their niblets on display?
I mean, no judgement is being passed or anything, Im just intrigued that simply having free range baps makes it worth paying well over the odds for a beverage.
Because if Id known that sooner I would have offered to get the teas in around the office more often.
Still, the ziplocked ladies of the bar we shall only know as TOPLESS BAR DRINKS $10 No Other Charges clearly offended some quarter of the business district around the office. Soon after they opened, the busty babes were considered off-colour before the topless watershed of about 6pm, after which it was considered fine to put them back in the window.
And that was good, I thought. I go to the gym in the mornings, and so have usually seen enough breasts for the first half of the day by the time I reach London. The photoshopped delights that used to greet me at TOPLESS BAR DRINKS £10 No Other Charges always struck me as a tit too far before lunch.
And tired, on the way home, push-up brad howitzers had less bang to their bosums, as by midevening I was too interested in watching the furtive still-on-a-drunken-six-hour-lunchbreak City men hur-hur-hurring in little smelly clumps erectioned outside the front door to pay much mind to the pictures of unleashed paps in the unmarked windows.
Still, I wasnt sad after a couple of months when someone clearly noticed that this was still breaking some local bylaw or dictat of good taste, and they never appeared again – after 6 or otherwise.
Im more intrigued by the current state of play, though. Im wondering if its a licensing issue or a sudden flush of moral conscience, but now the word topless has disappeared as well.
Which is all well and good, but the fact is, the sign outside the seedy-looking nameless-bar now reads
ALL DRINKS £10
No Other Charges
Which is, frankly, just rubbish.
So its just a BAR, then? A normal BAR, with EXTORTIONATE bar prices, and no other redeeming features that I can identify at all? A normal, boring, topped bar? With £10 drinks?! Cripes.
Id go in there to find out if they women within are still failing to wear blouses – as I feel that would at least represent some kind of tit for tat (or tit for that) value – but
a) I dont want to.
a,pt ii) No, not even in a cool feminist way. Honestly, I just dont.
b) No one will go with me. I think they are scared I will say Can I have a vodka and tonic with ice no lemon and if you could place it on the area of the tray where its least likely to get your nipple dunked in it they would be great? with a big smile. Or something. Like I would…
c) Im not sure I could afford a round of lemonades, even if we werent staying very long.
d) I have my own.