[LazyScot]

<This is very silly. It should really be in the lounge. It features characters from the lounge (suitably corrupted by my warped mind). So if you don't like the lounge, this is probably not for you... And if you do like this, just don't expect additional tales too often.
Mods: feel free to move this thread to the lounge if you think appropriate.>


I thought I'd try and collect some of the tales of the goings-on at Adrian's bar; it might even persuade some of Adrian's regulars to make their first visit (it's a very strange and worthwhile experience to be presented with "your usual" for the first time….).

However, to start, I think a little bit of explanation of the place is probably in order…

Although it is called Adrian's, this is really just a quirk to get round the Temporal Licensing Board. It really should be Marc's. It appears that Marc will have done something that really upset them, and so they are disbarring him from holding a Temporal Licence (what he will have been doing, I have no idea, and any time I ask I just get one of his poly-syllabic, enigmatic smiles – so if anyone knows the tale, I'd be delighted if they would post it). Anyhow, to get round this, Marc got Adrian to apply. Rumour has it that Adrian has done far worse, but that the Board is too frightened of Adrian to deny him a request. But of course, that might be just a rumour.

Occasionally, the question is asked "where is Adrian's bar" to which the second best answer (after, of course, it's the blue one next to the fish) is "yes". Since this answer is generally perceived as useless (though, in fact, it is anything but), the next alternative answer is "It's local, but in a non-geographical and non-temporally specific fashion. Wherever and whenever you are, it is only a few minutes away, just round the corner and through the door."

Inside, Adrian's bar does take a little getting used to, in much the same way as sky diving does (hint: the first step is the biggest, you really have to get the art of stopping just right, and collision with flying waterfowl is a notable risk), partly because the dimensions seem to have been rotated around. This means that the bar is delineated by time, rather than space (which may well explain why the chairs in Monday are so uncomfortable and why the Saturday and Sunday sofas are almost impossible to escape from). The only time of any interest, closing time, has safely been locked up inside the event horizon of a black hole that Adrian reportedly keeps tied up in his attic using a couple of spare dimensions he had left over from some party or other. However, this strange architecture does mean you have to take care which door you choose to leave from (given a couple of ZCDs and an infinite number of doors, this is a little harder than it sounds). Even more weirdly, no matter how many times you visit, you never seem to bump into yourself. Or at least that's what the huge rule book says, according the Marc.

The bar is generally staffed by a kaleidoscope of Marcs. If this sounds somewhat disconcerting, it actually seems very normal. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. Or at least it does until he gets carried away with himselves during a cocktail-making song and dance routine and starts arguing over who should do the choreography. Fortunately, at this point the squid usually takes over serving duties. Regardless of the barkeep, the real benefit of Adrian's is that you never have to wait to be served – all that happens is Marc twists a few dimensions just so, and magically a new psychedelic Marc is instantly available just before you think about going to the bar, ready to proffer you exactly the beverage you didn't know you needed.

As for range of drinks, the bar is, well, very Marc and Adrian. As well as the expected range of completely imaginary and laws-of-the-universe defying liquids, it stocks what Adrian proudly announces as the greatest selection of teas in this, or any other, universe. (Exactly how he can make this claim results in another of Marc's polysyllabic enigmatic smiles, or if Adrian happens to have swung by, an "Oook".) As for food, thereby hangs a tale for another day, but the bar is populated with a collection of nuts (which did result in an unfortunate pest problem one day), assorted nibbles and a wide range of chocolate.

Perhaps best of all, it’s a place where the nibbles have no calories, the drinks carry no guilt and the Anatidae fly free...

I suppose it is kinda like a cross between Soap, the original The Banana Splits Adventure Hour and Cheers, except that no-one knows your name, the resident shrink goes on to become a writer not a radio personality and the barman is more.

Oh, and DUCK!