Juan claims that the women of Newcastle are the most beautiful women in the world; this is possibly true, but, although Cheryl and I see no evidence of this, we both agree that the people of Newcastle are amongst the friendliest people in the world and, in every pub we visit, we have a wonderful time sharing out our gold and vintage malt and drinking their extraordinary brown ale, which, despite looking, and tasting, like the liquid secreted from the lower end of a pig’s intestines, is a powerful, hearty, brew.
Eventually, however, Cheryl reminds me that we are outlandishly behind schedule and, reluctantly, we say goodbye to all our new friends and head back to meet Juan. We hope that he is quietly getting on with some good-natured darts games with the local players, and not causing any trouble. However, staggering towards the pub, we hear police sirens, and see crowds of people brawling on the street. Stumbling into the bar, we find Juan, flailing his bagpipes around his head, beating back a group of enraged men. He shouts that they accused him of cheating, this is typical of Juan’s behaviour and, after helping him beat back his opponents, I remind him that his attitude is less than professional. Juan says that he isn’t the only person at fault and that the man Cheryl injured turned out to be the chief of police and the entire
police force is out for her blood. Cheryl protests, saying that she was only acting in self-defence. I tell them both that, to save more trouble, we should get back to Aunt Humperdink’s mine. Energising ourselves with Vintage Bruichladdich, Lagavulin, Tomintoul and Mortlach Private Reserve and quaffing pints of Newcastle Brown Ale, drinking toast after toast to the famous Geordie hospitality, we fight our way back to the safety of Aunt Humperdink’s mine. Newcastle
We have had a lot of fun
and we are sorry to be leaving so quickly, however, back down the mine, we discuss our options and decide the best thing we can do is to wait for a train. Because the Special Train Service provides an excellent service to all aunt Humperdink’s mines, we won’t have to wait very long, so this is a good decision. To celebrate, Juan opens a cask of his Special Reserve and, singing ‘Bobby Shaftoe’ and ‘Keep Yor Feet Still Geordie Hinney’ at the top of our voices, we link arms and charge around in circles, as fast as we possibly can. Newcastle
Professor Humperdink’s Diary