The trams were still running smoothly, and we’d just about made up our schedule after the footwork required for Therapia Lane. So this left a civilised amount of time for finding a pub at Mitcham Junction by the principle of Lucky Dip. (We had – wisely, I think – chosen to skip the Beddington Lane stop, which judging by the map appeared to be a golf depot.)

When we got off the tram, we walked up to the bridge crossing the tracks, only to find that we were again in the middle of nowhere. There seemed to be no reasoned way to choose between left and right: not a pub was in sight. However, I think somebody consulted a map – perhaps one at the station itself, but I’ve completely forgotten – and noticed that a short walk south would take us to the humorously named Goat Road. This was an opportunity not to be overlooked.

After Alex had expressed himself in some bushes, we made our way to Goat Road, which appeared to be the boundary of some sort of village green. Suddenly, it struck us: here was a pub, on the corner, going by the name of The Goat. The extent of our childish delight cannot be underestimated: “The Goat, Goat Road” – it just doesn’t come any better than that.

The light was fading fast but we had to try and get a shot of us proudly standing outside this cosy local.

Isn’t this the Slaughtered Lamb?

Unfortunately it seems that we failed. Still, we eagerly went in to find a superb old pub with lots of wood panellage and some maverick real ale called Brew XI. Simon, Alex and myself all gave it a go, but Tim and Pad stuck to the more traditional Courage Best and Alan was well into the Carling.

I don’t know what happened with our planning, but for whatever reason we decided that another forfeit round was in order – our third in a row. I can’t remember whose turn it was to pick, but whoever it was, he chose The Game:

It has to be said that playing a drinking game half-way through a pub crawl is asking for trouble. Particularly when one of our party, Simon, has a self-confessed inability to play it. In case – for some bizarre reason – you’re not aware of the rules, “Drink While You Think” involves naming “famous people” in turn, each first name starting with the first letter of the previous celebrity’s surname. The added twist is that a celebrity having a first name and a surname starting with the same letter results in the direction of play being reversed. Ah, and the only other thing is that while you’re thinking of a famous person’s name starting with the relevant letter, you have to drink continuously.

Now, seasoned timewasters such as myself and Pad have at the back of our minds a stockpile of names like Marcel Marceau, Michael Moore, Marilyn Monroe, Marilyn Manson, Matthew Modine, Michael Madsen, Marky Mark, Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, Mary Tyler Moore, Meg Matthews, Michael Moorcock, Michael Meacher, Michael Mansfield (QC), Mike Mansfield (Cue the Music), Martine McCutcheon, Martin McGuinness, Mitchell McLaughlin, Mitch Mitchell, Margaret Mitchell, Manfred Mann, Mad Max, Mark Morrison, Mary Magdalene, Melinda Messenger and Maggie May – not to mention Kevin Kline, Kevin Keegan and Kris Kristofferson. Unfortunately our expertise (which is probably not something to be proud of) proved dangerous as far as Simon was concerned. Within about five minutes, he had already sunk an entire pint of Brew XI. That meant that he had plenty of time to get a second drink in: a bottle of Budweiser, the contents of which disappeared with equally alarming speed. As a result, I think it’s fair to say that Simon – real name Peter Trait – was completely shit-faced by the time we left this quality boozer. I use the word “quality” advisedly, since the statistics show that this was our favourite pub of the whole crawl.

On the way back to the tram stop, Pad revealed a sneak preview of the clothing article to be used for the forfeit which, by this stage, we had decided Ian would have to undergo when he joined us.

Hats on for Tramlink

This was another Tramlink sign which we couldn’t pass without a photo. It’s particularly ironic that it claimed a service of “Frequent trams from this stop”, since once we got down to the platform, it became clear that delays were beginning to set in. To pass the time while we waited, Alan played “coke can football” with some Small Children. He then provided a helpful demonstration of how to operate a ticket machine:

He’s got a ticket to ride – and he don’t care

After such fun and games, our tram finally turned up, glowing in the darkness, and we were conveyed to the next station in a carriage lined with condensation and/or sweat.