Max and his two mates sidle up to the pub's entrance one Saturday evening. Don't judge a book by its cover: Almost nobody judges you more by your appearance than a doorman. Among the reasons Max may be refused entry: too young or failure to produce ID; average shoes; mediocre pants; so-so shirt; or if he's particularly unlucky, the doorman may just develop an intense dislike for him. Any number of reasons could result in Max being U-turned, most of which relate to his appearance. Max has often heard the saying about how it's what's on the inside that counts, although he can see little evidence of it at work here.
Once he's granted entry he opts for a drink. The wallet comes out and is about to be considerably lightened. Shop around for the best price: Next door there is a bottleshop. One block away there is a supermarket. Both of these places sell identical products for around 60% of what Max is paying now. So why, when he would ordinarily take the time to shop around and pay less for food, insurance, car repairs, and DVDs, does he happily choose to pay over the odds for a pint of beer? The thought doesn't worry him, or indeed even occur to him. All notions of value have been left at the front door.
He buys a round for himself and his two mates and they all take a seat. Soon the bar is busy and all the seating is taken. Two more rounds are bought and Max and company are having a few laughs. Max's mate knocks over a glass of beer, spilling it over the table and onto the floor. Clean up after yourself: Had this happened at home or in a restaurant, he'd have cleaned it up himself or at least informed a waiter. Here, it's a laughable event even though it's something that most six-year-olds have grown out of. They use coasters to soak up a little bit but to them it's just part and parcel of a night at the old rub-a-dub.
Soon enough Max feels pressure building in his bladder. Although in other circumstances he would excuse himself to use the bathroom, here he feels it only necessary to stand up and announce crudely to the group that his python needs a siphon. Always practice good hygiene when relieving oneself: Considering the unfavourable volume of urine on the bathroom floor – really, any urine on the floor is unfavourable – and the sheer number of sozzled men all adding to it, this is going to be a difficult rule to follow. After an uneasy wee during which two larger men stand on either side of him and loudly discuss the merits or otherwise of dirt bikes, Max moves on to wash his hands, but the sinks are all being used and anyway appear to be leaking and covered in soggy toilet roll and empty bottles. Max decides that hygiene can take a back seat just now.
He stops off at the bar on the way back to his table to buy another drink. The mob is deep and jostly and his efforts to push to the front and be noticed appear to be futile. Queue in an orderly fashion: Normally Max and those around him would, if they were at a bank, post office, or takeaway shop, queue naturally and without fuss. Here, it is survival of the fittest and those not headstrong enough to barge through the throngs will unfortunately go thirsty. At length, after much elbowing and sign language, Max catches the bartender's eye and forms his request. Be polite when conversing with others: He'd like to be polite, with pleases and thank-yous, but the noise is just too much. Instead, he effectively barks 'three pints!' into the bargirl's ear while jabbing at the appropriate beer tap. He cannot think of any other occasion where behaviour like this is warranted. He yells 'Thank you!' when the drinks come, but the words disappear into the ether and in any case the bargirl has swiftly moved on to the next person.
The night progresses. Max, his mates, and those around them are variously loud, abusive, jovial, depressed, clever, and opportunistic. Don't be somebody you're not: Everybody is, however, being somebody they're not, ranging from pick-up artist, to karaoke superstar, to dancing guru, to social commentator, to toastmaster, to trivia king. Nobody here is any of those things, but boy they're trying, and with mixed outcomes. The big-screen TV gives Max the chance to be a rugby commentator, however his language is much too expletive-ridden to ever land him a job.
Later in the night the trolleyed trio decide to call it a night, and they sway their way to the exit. Nutrition is the backbone of good health: If this is the case, Max's backbone right now is posturally challenged. Many drinks are sloshing around inside him and although his liver is doing a stirling job of dealing with this, it's unfortunately coming up short. The only thing he's eaten recently was a meat pie, hardly the vanguard of good nourishment. Max and his friends stumble onto the footpath, only dimly aware that their group has just smashed two glasses and sworn at an innocent Chinese gentleman. They sing a mishmash of songs as they veer down the road. Max suddenly feels a little queasy and grabs hold of a picket fence. Only vaguely self-aware, he then heaves and despatches a jolly amount of second-hand beer and pie onto a front lawn. Be respectful of others' property: Normally Max would baulk at letting his dog shit on someone's lawn or at tagging someone's fence, but in one fell swoop he's befouled a random citizen's grass and left streaky chunks on their front fence. Curiously, he thinks it's no problem and his mates think it's hilarious.
Five minutes later, they are home. It takes a while to find the keys, and in the interim Max's two mates decide to start a shouting challenge. The challenge is to see who has the loudest shout, and by association, the dimmest wits. Love thy neighbour: Max would ordinarily not even play his stereo too loud for fear of upsetting the neighbours, let alone allow a shouting contest. This time however, he hasn't the inclination nor the ability to stop it. Maybe he'll apologise to them the next day. Or perhaps not.
On Sunday morning Max Manners feels seedy. On Sunday afternoon he feels marginally renewed. On Monday he's back to his usual self and for the rest of the week is the embodiment of good On Friday he'll probably go back to the pub, leave his conduct at the door, and do it all again. manners.
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