Prince Harry hogged the headlines all day.
Seems he bagged a lassie and they're gonna tie the knot. Why anybody would give a shit is the part I can't figure out.
Be that as it may, I'd like to take my hat off to Prince Harry with this salute to the time Prince Harry bagged a wog.
Oy, he's a real man... got blood on his hands.
There was a little diner in Neustadt called Hat's off to Harry. Harry, or whoever it was owned the place, had dreams.
He dreamed of owning a pool hall.
So he took the plunge and built one. On top of his diner. Yup, had to build an entire second story to accommodate the new venture. Even got himself a liquor license!
He done it up right.
He was ready to go!
Pool-cue totin' rubes from all around flocked to the place. Even made a couple visits myself.
Then the county's new smoking regs kicked in. If a denizen of the pool hall wished to smoke a cigarette, she or he would have to work their way down a long flight of stairs, and then move fifteen metres from the entrance way.
I know! That's what you do in a pool hall - smoke!
Smoke and drink beer. Billiards is an afterthought.
It was tits up for Harry.
Which is a timely reminder that sometimes the winds of propriety shift. Never mind the pool hall - I can remember when people smoked in the supermarket.
I can remember when I was a pump boy at John's Supertest in my teens, every other car that pulled in on a Friday or Saturday night had open liquor in it. That's not kosher anymore either.
The winds of propriety shift...