Moss Bank entrepeneur Richard Branson has failed in his third attempt at a St Helens round town pub crawl.  I could fuckin’ come up with  shit load of excuses about why I failed to complete again, but the truth is, I can’t take my ale, never could. 

Branson, an occasional wine drinker, was attempting the solo round St Helens pub crawl because he’s got that much money and free time, he can do this kind of event, he doesn’t give a toss since he wipes his arse on twenty pound notes. 

“I’d done ballooning and speedboats, aeroplanes and round the world telephoning, I thought I would like to try an event that would get me as wankered as possible but allow me as much exposure as possible for my global brand” he sobbed after one too many pints, “I love you, St Helens” he continued, “I’m sorry, I fucked up again, I might as well sleep in one of my expensive cars, for all you care though… I’ll do it, I will, don’t try and stop me… it’s yer fuckin’ mam, she’s the problem”. 

Starting off with a flotilla of local pre-noon drunks at Buzby’s, the attempt was supposed to take in a handful of boozers around the town centre and end with last orders and a hot pot supper at Windle Labour Club.  I knew things were starting to go off course when happy hour kicked in and I had to get a couple of pints and something off the doubles bar.  After a few games of pool, I was steaming and a bit hungry.  I thought I could nip to Sayers on the way to The Sefton and sort myself out, but ended up spending the afternoon in Jokers watching the racing and nipping to the bookies round the corner to place some bets.  By tea time I was thirty quid down and had no chance of gaining any time since my wind was blowing in a southerly direction after all th’ale I’d drunk.  I sent out a distress call to my chauffeur to come and pick me up in The Duke, I got another round in, but had to concede, my challenge was over.

While Branson preceeded to barf carrots outside Geno’s we telephoned Nelly Gafney of Marshalls Cross for her opinion; she gave us a cracking sound bite of “fucking Virgin!”.  Thanks Nelly.