Made In Sheffield - Now Then

The University Arms.
Two men of great maturity and wisdom,
capable at a moment’s notice of running
the country, meet every week in a different
pub to consider the state of the world
and propose the correct solutions
to its various problems. Thanks to this
magazine, their thoughts and suggestions
can now be shared with the wider
population.
Now then, Bert. Long time since we were here, eh?
Aye, Bill. Then it were the University Staff Club.
No, it were 197 club.
No, I mean afore that. But they never had the beers they do
now.
Good, eh? I bet it’s even more popular with the professors!
Eh, remember him?
Aye, Professor Schrodinger. He had a cat, went everywhere
with ‘im. Half the time it were with ‘im, the rest of the time ‘e
could never find it and we’d ‘ave to go look for it. ‘E won an
award you know.
The cat?
No, Schrodinger.
What for?
Some’t to do with the RSPCA...
Bloody ‘ell.
What?
It’s Doris the Hoover.
Why she’s called that - good at sucking?
No, she fell down the stairs onto the hoover and got it stuck
up her bum. She had to go to hospital to get it removed.
Is she all right?
Picking up nicely, they say.
Bloody ‘ell, enough of the jokes. Grab a seat and,
seeing as we’re in our university pub, let’s have a serious
conversation!
Oh you mean sport? The Blades are doing OK. Been to the
Lane lately?
Saw that Sean Bean last time. Sorry, Doctor Bean. E’s got an
honorary degree. Even universities are all about celebrities
these days. I bet Doris the Hoover or that bloody Jonathan
Ross gets one soon.
I remember he interviewed Sean Bean, didn’t he? He asked
him what it was like doing sex scenes.
He would ask that, wouldn’t he? So what ‘e say, our Doctor?
Said most of the time it wasn’t too hard.
Never. That reminds me, you remember that George Melly?
PHOTO - NEIL THORNLEY.
‘E ‘ad a good story about Sheffield. He was on his way up
‘ere to do a show and got lost, so ‘e stopped and asked
this bloke where the Sheffield turn off was. ‘E sez, “She’s at
home. I married her.”
You daft twat, I said serious. You know, they reckon that the
average life expectancy goes up by one minute every day.
There’s as many retired people like us as there is under 18s.
They’re going to live to be 100, most of them.
Nah, they’ll die of drugs or drink before then. Ready for
another?
There you go, we’re just the same. ‘Ow many pints did you
have last week?
Not sure. I can usually remember the first five, then it gets a
bit hazy. But we’re retired. What else you supposed to do?
It’s daft giving us all free bus passes. Who wants to spend
their retirement on a bloody bus?
You’re right. Old people on buses are a menace, Bill. They
can’t see properly, they can’t move fast, they’re deaf.
They’re a bloody danger to the community. They’d be safer
sitting in a pub than clogging up the buses.
Every boozer should ‘ave a Senior Happy Hour, shouldn’t
they?
How about 9 to 11 in the morning? Anyway, same again?
Just been reading about this new theory called Intelligent
Falling. Some American professor doesn’t believe in
gravity. He thinks God makes everything fall down. They
want to teach it in the schools. Listen to this: “Proponents
of Intelligent Falling assert that the different theories
used by secular physicists to explain gravity are not
internally consistent. Even critics of Intelligent Falling admit
that Einstein’s ideas about gravity are mathematically
irreconcilable with quantum mechanics. This fact,
Intelligent Falling proponents say, proves that gravity is a
theory in crisis.”
Shall we ask Professor Schrodiger? Oh, he seems to have
disappeared. Must be looking for that fucking cat. Seriously,
though, this Intelligent Design is bollocks. What’s intelligent
about falling down? You and me do it all the time.
...Nice pub.
Aye. University’s lookin’ grand. All it needs is a degree in
drinking.
They got one. They call it ‘lifelong learning’.
Long live adult education, Bill!
TWO MEN IN A PUB.
NORTHERNERS SHOULD BE IN CHARGE.
PAGe seventeen.