Phil Johnson: Licensees are not police

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I used to march to the pub with a spring in my step eagerly anticipating that first glorious pint and the start of the banter. Last night, despite the relatively mild weather my step was leisurely, almost wearisome for there was no need to rush anymore.

The doors were open, welcoming allcomers to the delights within but there didn't seem as if a whole heap of welcoming had gone on!

A teenager and his girlfriend banged a few pool balls around almost lethargically until the young gentleman politely allowed his wench to pot the black and claim victory.

Having claimed the opening pint of the night I turned my back to the bar to survey the faces within. There were no faces within; eight o'clock and I was the customer base!

About half an hour later Ron & Jack limped in and ordered their usual halves and Ron had his brandy chaser with his, before retiring to their usual seats to discuss the war for the ten thousanth time. They are lonely as well. Before July last year 'Billyboy' and 'Jacko' used to meet them and also talk about the war but they've been outed by the smoking ban.

Ron bemoaned their absence: "84 yrs old and I fought for this bloody country but I can't even sit with my mates anymore!"

I could only sympathise with him.

Jack wished Tony Blair had been in the trenches with him, "He'd 'ave bin fust over the bloody top," he muttered disconsolately into his beer.

I ordered another pint, praying for a friendly face to appear through that hallowed portal. My prayer was not answered. The youngsters had departed from the delights of the green baize, so that was it-me and two octgenarians. What a bundle of laughs!

The barmaid tried to busy herself but there were no empty glasses to collect, no beermats to straighten and not even any ashtrays to clean!

She told me of a landlady somewhere near Lancaster who had been fined £365 because a female customer had lit a cigarette up in her pub. Apparently the landlady had been at the local Cash&Carry when this event occurred!

Apparently the presiding magistrate said, "Let that be a lesson to you".

Now what sort of statement is that I ask? It also transpired that the dastardly smoker was not prosecuted-only the landlady who was absent at the time! How can that be?

This gave me much room for thought, for if smokers were not being prosecuted for smoking in an enclosed space and/or a workplace, why is it that the licensee is liable, especially, as in this case, the licensee wasn't even on site?

It became increasingly obvious to me that this gov't have set their stall out to get money out of the smokeban even if it is not the smokers that pay it!

Licensees have a hard enough job at the best of times and it is humanly impossible to be on hand every minute of the day or night. This therefore means that any spurious phone call to the Environment Office could lead to a prosecution of the most innocent of licensees.

In fact, why are the licensees liable at all? They have complied with the signage ordered by the government and removed all the ashtrays. Soon all the fag machines will be gone and the government has ordered each council to employ a 'smoke plod squad'!

Surely it is the duty of these EHOs to go round the pubs - that is what they get paid more than twenty grand a year for! Or are they paid such money to sit next to a phone awaiting what may or may not be the next spurious phone call from some malicious anti smoker?

Licensees should not have to 'police' their own premises - they serve beer and food to customers. An Italian Court has ruled that the licensee of a premises is not liable for policing his establishment-that is the job of those specifically employed for that purpose.

Now that will be intersting: if we do get bludgeoned into this European SuperQuagmireState, will landlords still be prosecuted if a smoker lights-up?

According to italian law, no they won't.

A shadow settled next to me, thank God. It was 9.30pm already. My friend Daz had arrived to save me any further mental crusading. At last I could do what I want to do in my local - enjoy myself! Beer and happy banter.

Our landlord was watching TV upstairs, but we still went outside with our fags!