The walk from Wandle Park to the Hare & Hounds, which at the time had seemed like an implausibly long hike, now seemed like a moderate stroll when compared to the distance we had to traipse to get to the next pub, the Jolly Gardeners. This wasn’t helped by the fact that when we came out at the top of Therapia Lane onto Mitcham Road we had no idea which way to turn, so one of us had to pile into some sort of spring roll emporium to ask for directions (it’s left, in case you’re interested). By the time we reached our destination, we were all quite tired and in need of a drink.

The Jolly Pub Crawlers

Indeed, Alex looks positively frightened at having gone so long without beer, as this scary close-up reveals:

Have you seen this man?

It would be difficult to think of a less apt name for a pub situated on a blustery, deserted stretch of the A236 in a crumbling industrial estate. The interior was similarly deserted, but had a reasonably welcoming feel to it. What it needed, though, was some sort of musical entertainment to liven the place up a bit. Picture our pleasure, then, when we noticed that there was a jukebox. Therefore we got Alan to select a forfeit, hoping that by chance it would be The Sound of Music. When it wasn’t, we got him to choose again, and keep choosing until he picked the right one.

This forfeit was basically a revived version of Jukebox Jury, a round we’d been unable to complete on L2K, due to incompetence. It was up to the other members of the group to compile a list of potentially embarrassing “toons”, which Alan would then have to (very visibly) enter in as jukebox selections. What a bizarre coincidence it was that all of us happened to choose songs by Queen.

The sound system was satisfyingly (or perhaps unwisely) loud, and within seconds we had all launched into an impromptu singalong of various highlights from Queen’s œuvre. We accompanied this with a round of session beers: two Carlsbergs (Tim and Alan), three Tetley Smoothflows (Pad, Alex and Simon), and for myself a bottle of Holsten – I suspect because I was beginning to feel bloated, or because I was nervous about the short amount of time we’d get in the pub before needing to get back to the Tramlink.

Our enjoyment at the sheer quality of the jukebox entertainment – which featured an amazing “futuristic” flashing light system – combined with our happiness at being out of the rain, led us to award the Jolly Gardeners an impressive round of scores. I can just about transcribe them now, though it is clear from the shaky manner in which the numbers were written down that the effects of five drinks were beginning to make themselves known.

At one point Alex claimed never to have heard “Don’t Stop Me Now”, but nobody believed him. His (feigned or otherwise) inability to sing along, however, clearly did not detract from the calibre of our vocal achievements, as the bemused landlady invited us all back the following night for their karaoke evening. Flattered though we were by the offer, we decided that it might be best to make our excuses and leave, particularly since the pub returned to a very stony silence once the music stopped.

While everyone else was getting ready to go, I suddenly realised that if I didn’t pay a visit to their “conveniences” before the trip to the next pub then I would run a not insubstantial risk of fouling myself in public. When I came back, however, I found that my drinking colleagues were already outside. In their place stood the landlady, holding my fleece out for me. As I did that arm-twisting movement you have to do when someone helps you on with a coat, I was left wondering if this was a kind gesture for a valued customer, or if she was simply keen to see the back of me, as it were.