Tag Archives: The Red Lion Arlingham

A Pint of Piss in Arlingham

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Brian Streaters Streatfield

Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield

I was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter with that distinctive hoppy, fruity flavour, in the The Red Lion pub in Arlingham, Gloucestershire, when my mate Streaters walked in grinning from ear to ear, like a Cheshire cat. “You’re looking unusually happy mate,” I said pulling out my wallet and waggling my glass to attract the landlord, “what you ‘avin’?”
“Put it away Ian, I’m buying tonight, I’ve had a big win,” said Streaters.
“A big win at what?” I said, as the landlord finally arrived.
“I was given a dead cert tip for the 2.30 at Cheltenham, and it came in big time! I won over a thousand quid.” More smiles and rubbing of hands. “I’m feeling very lucky tonight.” The landlord sees an opportunity to part Streaters with his winnings and bets him one thousand pounds that he can’t fill a pint glass with his piss by pissing the length of the bar and without spilling a drop! “No Way Jose, I wasn’t born yesterday!” But the evening went on, and Streaters was mixing, and buying people drinks, and toasting their luck, and I knew there’d be trouble when Streaters started on the shorts. Finally the landlord persuades Streaters to take him up on his bet.

We help him up on to the bar, he gets out his todger and he immediately starts pissing everywhere, he’s nowhere near the glass, and we’re all pissing ourselves laughing, especially the landlord! After Streaters has dripped himself off, we help him down and the landlord takes great pleasure in informing him that he’s lost the bet. And Streaters says, “No problem, I’ve just bet those racegoers over there five thousand quid, that I could piss all over you and the bar and still make you laugh.”

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you wonderful old ‘B’

Clandestine Phone Calls in The Red Lion Arlingham

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Brian Streaters Streatfield

Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield

I was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter with that distinctive hoppy, fruity flavour, in The Red Lion Arlingham, Gloucestershire, when my mate Streaters walked in talking into his cupped hand. “For goodness sake Streaters; you’re acting like a complete loon. There’s a gang of ‘Hells Angels’ over there and they’ll have you for breakfast after all that Pigs Ear they’ve been drinking!” I said, worried about the old fool.
“Don’t worry,” said Streaters, “I’m not crazy, I’ve got a cell phone implanted in my hand. I can make phone calls while I’m driving.” And to prove it, Streaters tapped the palm of his hand with his finger and held his hand up to my ear. “Fucking hell, it’s actually working,” I said.

Anyway, after a couple of pints, Streaters heads off to the Gents and after 20 minutes, I’m getting a little concerned that the Hells Angels have roughed him up. So the Landlord and I go to look for him. We walked into the WC and see Streaters laying naked on the floor with a toilet roll poking out of his arse. “Oh Shit, I Knew this was going to happen!” I said. “Are you all right, mate?”

And he replies, “Yeah, I’m fine thanks – just waiting for a fax to come through!”

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘The Red Lion Arlingham’ ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you wonderful old ‘B’

Uley Bitter Makes You Stronger & More Intelligent

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Brian Streaters Streatfield

Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield

I was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter with that distinctive hoppy, fruity flavour, in the The Red Lion pub in Arlingham, Gloucestershire, with my mate Streaters, and let’s be honest, we were well and truly rat-arsed. And he says to me, “Yooo know sumfin Ian, when I was in my thirties and got a massive stiffy, I couldn’t bend it with either of my hands – how ever hard I tried. But when I was in my forties, I could bend it about ten degrees if I tried really hard. And then by the time I was in my fifties, I could bend it at least twenty degrees, no problem. Anyway, I’m gonna be sixty next week, and now I can almost bend it in half with just one hand!”
“And your fucking point is?” I said, as I tried to attract the attention of the beautiful landlord by waggling my empty glass at him.
“Well,” said Streaters, “I woz jus’ wonderin’ how much stronger I’m gonna get!”

~

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you wonderful old ‘B’

Plain Sailing at the Red Lion Arlingham

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Brian Streaters Streatfield

Brian “Streaters” Streatfield

I was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter with that distinctive hoppy, fruity flavour, in the The Red Lion pub in Arlingham, Gloucestershire, when my mate Streaters came flying in, “Do you have any helicopter flavoured crisps?” he asked with an urgent tone in his voice. The landlord shook his head and said, “No, we only have plain!”

~

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you old ‘B’

Streaters Gets A Nasty Black Eye

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Brian Streaters Streatfield

Brian “Streaters” Streatfield

I was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter with that distinctive hoppy, fruity flavour, in the The Red Lion pub in Arlingham, Gloucestershire, when my mate Streaters walked in with a very nasty looking black eye. “That’s a very nasty looking black eye,” I said.
“Yes it’s a very nasty black eye,” said Streaters.
“Well that’s a very nasty black eye.”
“It is a very, very nasty black eye.”
“That’s a really, very nasty black eye; how did you get it?”
“Well, I was sitting in church last Sunday and we all got up to sing the first hymn; and when the lady in front of me stood up, I noticed that her skirt had gone up the crack of her arse. So I leant forward, grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it all out. She swung around and said, “How Dare You,” and hit me in the eye with her hymn book!

A week later I was having another really nice pint of Uley Bitter in the The Red Lion, when my mate Streaters walked in with another very nasty looking black eye. “Oooh, that’s a very nasty looking black eye,” I said.
“Yes it’s a very nasty black eye that I’ve got,” said Streaters.
“Well that’s a very nasty black eye.”
“It is a very, very nasty black eye.”
“That’s a really, very nasty black eye; how did you get it?”
“Well, I was sitting in church last Sunday and we all got up to sing the first hymn; and when the lady in front of me stood up, I noticed that her skirt was hanging perfectly normally. Well, I knew she didn’t like it like that, so I tucked it back in!

~

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you old ‘B’

Professor of Logic Visits The Red Lion Arlingham

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Brian Streaters Streatfield

Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield

Streaters was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter with one of his work colleagues in the The Red Lion pub in Arlingham, Gloucestershire, when a gang of shabbily dressed men walked in! Streaters said to his colleague, “Hang on mate, excuse me for a moment, I think I know that man?” And he got up and walked over to the group.
“I say, you’re not ‘Twist’ are you?” Asked Streaters.
“Yes!” said Twist. “Oh My God; it’s Streaters isn’t it? I haven’t seen you since school – what are you doing these days?”
“Well I’m just having a lunchtime pint with one of my colleagues; I’m working for Calor Gas; what about you?”
“We’re having a profs day out in the sticks; I’m professor of Logic at University College London.”
“Professor of Logic! What’s that all about then?”
“Well, let me give you an example. Have you got a pond?”
“Yes!”
“Okay then, Logic says that if you’ve got a pond, you’ve probably got quite a large garden, and if you’ve got a large garden, you’ve probably got a large house.”
“Yes that’s right we do have quite a large house.”
“Logic then goes on to say that if you’ve got a large house, you’ve probably got a good income, and if you’ve got a good income, you’ve probably got a very attractive wife.”
“Yes that’s absolutely right, my wife’s beautiful.”
“Logic then goes on to say that if you’ve got an attractive wife, you probably have a fulfilling sex life and that you hardly ever masturbate.”
“Yes we have fantastic sex, I never masturbate.”
“There you are then, that’s Logic, one thing leads on to another in a logical progression.”
“Twist old friend, that was very interesting – I think I’d better be getting back to my colleague now, he’s looking over at us; here’s my card, let’s keep in touch and meet up sometime soon.” They exchanged cards and went their separate ways.

When Streaters got back to his colleague he said, “yes that was my old school friend; he’s done ever-so well for himself, he’s professor of Logic at University College London.”
“Professor of Logic! What’s that all about?” said the work colleague.
“Well, let me give you an example. Have you got a pond?” asked Streaters.
“No!”
“Oh, you’re a wanker then!”

~

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you old ‘B’

Bristol Crocodile Goes Into The Red Lion Pub Arlingham

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Brian Streaters Streatfield

Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield

I was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter in the The Red Lion pub in Arlingham, Gloucestershire, when my mate Streaters walks in with the 16 foot ‘Bristol Crocodile’ that he’d found on the banks of the River Avon!

The landlord looked up and shouts “Get It Out – Are you crazy? You can’t bring that thing in here! Get It Out Now!” But Streaters seemed totally relaxed, he heads towards the bar dragging the fucking enormous crocodile behind him on a leash, and he says, “Relax, it’s perfectly okay; the Bristol Crocodile seems to be completely tame. In fact, if you’ll let me stay I’ll show you one of his tricks to demonstrate that he’s very docile.”

The Landlord reluctantly consents and Streaters gently coaxes the crocodile to climb up on to a nearby chair. Much to everyone’s surprise, Streaters gets out his ‘not-so-little-man’ and places it in the crocodile’s mouth.

After about a minute Streaters pulls out a baseball bat, and Whack. Whack. Whack. He beats the crocodile viciously over the head. The massive Bristol Crocodile seems totally unmoved and he just slowly opens his mouth and Streaters’s penis is unharmed.

A round of applause and Streaters takes a bow; he puts his tackle away and shouts out, “Anyone Else Want To Give It A Go?” And some old girl in the corner shouted, “Yeah, I’ll give it a go, but don’t hit me so hard with the bat!”

~

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you old ‘B’

Miracle at The Red Lion in Arlingham

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Brian Streatfield

Brian Streatfield 1938 – 2014

I was having a nice pint of Uley Bitter at the The Red Lion pub in Arlingham, Gloucestershire, when my mate Streaters walked in with his two dogs; he gave me a nod and a wink and said to the landlord, “if you give us a free pint of beer each, I’ll show you something totally amazing that you’ve never seen before!”

“Okay, but it’d better be bloody good or you’re paying,” said the landlord.

Streaters reaches down and lifts up Fred, one of his dachshunds, and he plops Fred on the bar. Immediately Fred scampers along the bar at high speed, jumps off the end, performs an elegant mid-air somersault and lands on a table. He then pulls out a ukulele an proceeds to play it beautifully. The landlord says, “Bloody Hell! That’s unbelievable! Have a beer.”

As soon as Streaters and I finish our beers he says to the landlord, “if I show you another amazing trick, that you’ve never seen before, will you give us another free pint?”

“Yeah, if it’s as amazing as the last one, why not?”

So Streaters reaches into his Barbour jacket and pulls out a small green toad. He puts the toad on the bar and the toad begins to sing with an angelic female voice. We are all absolutely amazed, and the landlord brings us each another pint.

Anyway, we’re sitting at the bar talking, laughing, supping our beers and listening to the fuckin’ toad, and this bloke rushes over and says, “Jesus H. Christ! A singing toad! I’ll give you five hundred quid for him.”

Streaters immediately says, “done mate!” shakes his hand and hands him the toad. As the bloke is walking away, the landlord sidles over to us and says, “Streaters, that was a singing toad for God’s sake, you must be mad, why sell it for just five hundred quid? It must be worth millions!”

Streaters said, “Ha ha, don’t worry. Fred’s also a ventriloquist.”

~

A Celebration of The Life of Brian. Brian ‘Streaters’ Streatfield, born 4th October 1938 – 25th July 2014. He was like an Uncle to me, he was a dear, dear friend and I loved him very much.

This series of ‘Pub Jokes’ marked Streaters is my little tribute to a man who loved a pint in a good pub; he was also the bloke that I loved to have a pint with, and I’ll miss him forever. Rest in peace you old ‘B’