5. Grizwald Chunter

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Once again we find ourselves in the Salisbury Ale House, the pub that welcomes all. The pub that is tolerant and inclusive of the diversity of humanity. Except for the lesser-spotted tracksuited thunderclart. He can drink elsewhere.

Today we meet Grizwald Chunter, or 'Griz' to his friends, at his customary spot on a stool right at the centre of the bar.

He is sporting his camouflage trousers paired with a hi-viz jacket so that he is simultaneously hidden and easy to spot. Schrodinger's pisscan.

Griz is drinking whiskey with a dark rum chaser and periodically utters his familiar cry of 'Owchuffinmuch?'. A cry that betrays his Sheffield roots.

Griz is not in a happy place today. He craves company but his noxious emissions deter all but the bravest of people. He weeps as he remembers his lost love, a certain Letitia Squirm who has recently left him for a grave digger from Leicester. Distraught he is as he drains his glass and calls out for a refill.

Persephone Skink has been watching him and casually walks over to his side. 'Here I'll get that she says to the barman, flashing her contactless card at the terminal.

' Griz, I know you smell a bit and dislike most people. You could do with being a bit cleaner, you could dress a bit better, and develop a taste in music, and... '
' OK Purse. I get the message".
' Yes but deep down I know you are a decent sort underneath and you earn good money as an Estate Agent so just call and meet one of my girls'. She hands him her card:

Deb's Delights
The dirtiest dungeon in Denton

Griz wipes away a salty tear and forces a wry smile as he thanks her for the comfort.

Persephone glides back to her partner Lemuel happy with the anticipation of increased takings this month.

Griz staggers out of the door, phone in hand.

Have fun Griz. You certainly will.

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