And:
And from Mr. Free Market:
And:
And from Mr. Free Market:
Follow me for more Thanksgiving meal ideas…
As S&W has haughtily turned its back on Texas, we look to our Cousins Across The Pond for future investment in the Lone Star State:
Greggs today warned supply issues were pushing up the cost it pays for food and labour – presenting the risk of future price rises – as it promised sausage rolls are safe despite the UK’s pork crisis…
…
The Newcastle-based chain is also looking into opening overseas locations for the first time.
For my Murkin Readers who may have forgotten about this fabulous company and its most excellent wares:
From the top: sausage roll, steak bake, cheese & onion.
And there are more, oh so much more.
[takes moment to wipe up drool]
I know that you folks at Greggs have probably employed vast armies of Bainies and McKinzies to ascertain where your best opportunities lie here in Murka — and if their suggestions don’t include the US, fire them — but I can save you a ton of money simply by suggesting the Dallas-Ft. Worth metroplex.
Now I know that a bunch of Californians are going to say the same kind of thing about their state — but compare the time and cost in getting a food business operating license (hint: months and thousands of dollars in CA vs. days and scores of dollars in TX) and we haven’t even talked about the tax benefits (TX: low vs. CA: astronomical) and cost of land/rents (TX: low vs. CA: don’t even ask). And most Californians eat fucking salads more than pastries anyway, whereas we Texans loves us our fried pies and baked anything.
And by the way, I scored 7/11 on your quiz, and I haven’t been Over There in nearly four years. If that’s not a Greggs fan, I don’t know what is.
So waddya say, Greggs?
Now here’s a place I’d like to visit the next time I go Over There, because the owner seems to have the Right Stuff.
A pub boss has called last orders on customers in sportswear in a bid to drive out ‘chavs and roadmen with bumbags’ from his watering hole.
Landlord Brian Hoyle, who runs The Orange Tree in Hereford, has put a blanket ban on customers wearing hoodies, tracksuits and Stone Island clothing in his pub.
He is also barring under 21’s from the city centre pub at weekends due to youngsters being ‘unable to handle their booze’.
Needless to say, his dress code and age limit have aroused the anger of The Usual Suspects:
But the ban, which Hoyle says is aimed at making his watering hole a ‘proper’ Hereford pub again, has proved controversial among residents in the cathedral city.
Some of the residents have accused the policy of being ‘discriminatory’.
You see, this is what happens when you start ascribing motives to an ordinary word, used in its original (and correct) sense for centuries.
Let me say right now: there’s nothing wrong with being discriminatory: it’s a human trait that distinguishes civilized men from savages and animals, and helps us provide order in our world.
Sadly, of course, “discrimination” these days is used almost exclusively to demonize racial discrimination, which is not necessarily a Good Thing when applied purely as a measurement of skin color. But historically, that is actually the least of the word’s many applications. Here are a couple more.
When I say, for example, that I loathe “American” cheese (that orange paste stuff) and prefer to eat Jarlsberg, Cheddar or Emmenthaler, I am showing that I have a discriminating taste — just as is someone who would prefer to own and shoot a Colt Government over a Jennings Saturday Night Special, or prefers to own good knives made by Ken Onion over cheap brittle stuff made in China. Nothing wrong with that. Experience has taught you that stuff of inferior quality is not worth ownership or use.
When you prefer to invite people of your own sort to dinner parties, you’re being discriminating in your choice of friends — and once again, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
So of course, our worthy publican in the above story is setting his preferences — because over many years and much experience, he had discovered that people who dress a certain way and/or of a certain age tend to abuse his hospitality, so he wants to preclude them from coming in and, let it be known, spoiling things for people with manners, respect and proper attire.
Somebody needs to put an end to the loutish, boorish behavior of the younger generation, and he’s chosen to make a stand.
And good for him, say I. If I were in his shoes, I would do precisely the same.
This from Britishland:
And if that isn’t enough to cause torches to be lit, pitchforks be taken out of sheds and mobs to form, try this:
…and this mere days after KFC suffered the same shortages.
Just wait till supplies of peanut sauce dry up, and chicken satay is no longer available.
There’ll be murders.
…or strategery, if you prefer. Here’s the question:
To my mind, that’s a silly worry. Unless you’re blessed with 20/20 forecasting powers, my bet is that the cost of your favorite booze will climb way beyond your poor (and probably belated) efforts to be able to invest your money to buy it at some point in the future. (As far as I know, there’s no such thing as a Booze Index to which you can tie your savings, more’s the pity.)
The answer, of course, is to buy booze now in sufficient quantities to support your intake in your retirement years. This is sound advice, provided that you aren’t one of those people who, if they have more booze, simply drink more of it.
Mr. Free Market, of course, has a wine cellar which would even satisfy a hundred Richard Burtons; but being the crafty sod that he is, he stores it not at Freemarket Towers, but in a climate-controlled room at a remote location a hundred miles away.
However, we are not all like him, not having access to his bloated plutocratic fortune; and if I read the situation correctly, even if any of my Loyal Readers do have a climate-controlled room, it’s most likely filled with guns, ammo and SHTF supplies.
Nevertheless, I recommend stockpiling booze now, rather than hoping that your retirement savings will be able to sustain your alcohol needs in the future. And for those interested in such things, I rather think that putting away a case of (e.g.) J&B or Maker’s Mark (~$240) each month will be a guarantee of future Booze Self-Sufficiency.
And if you happen to snuff it prematurely, the remainder would be an excellent (and tax-free) inheritance for your Wretched & Ungrateful Heirs as they climb over your still-warm corpse and begin pillaging your house.
Just a thought.