A few doors down the hill from the Angel, I spotted some chubby chicks in a romantic embrace (although it might only have been wrestling were it not for the tongue action). This seemed worth a quick visit and I ordered a Carling then promptly (as I had been to four other venues this trip and at one I had a Black Dragon) forgot to document the 121st in the 100 Beer Challenge as I was confronted and confounded by the sausage fest. Dudes, everywhere.
The house was big and tidy (spotless), and painted brightly. The guys seemed rapt with their quiet conversations with one another, showing no evidence of being lured in by the girl-on-girl action at the door…one even appeared to be wearing designer jeans, ironed. Sometimes you’re right and mistaken all at once.
