John Comyn: The problem with pubs is, well, the customers

I hate customers. But I'm in a quandary - I am one. Damn. The issue here is: "The customer is always right." Well, I'm a customer; I am right. And I hate us.

A significant minority of pub customers are (let's be tactful here) oxygen thieves.

Beer prices go up occasionally. The VAT increase is a fact. It is happening and it will impact on beer. I'm not happy about that, but I am not going to shout at the barstaff about it.

Equally, I'm not going to have a go at the showroom when my Ford Sangria is a bit more expensive. I don't debate fiscal policy when purchasing an iPod. Please don't complain just because it's a pub.

But a lot of people do. I'm waiting for a pint and the guy ahead of me is decrying our system of taxation to the staff. Actually, shut up and get out of my way.

If you've never been to the pub before then read the price list for crying out loud, you egregious cretin. I was charged £4.50 for a pint of Peroni five years back by a despicable, shoddy, tuft of a pub in Battersea. I hadn't looked at the prices and so I couldn't complain. (I never went back though. That'll learn 'em.)

I would also ask inconsiderate morons why they pay for a single pint with a credit card. And, if they're in a group, why haven't they asked what the group wants before they get to the bar? This happens far too often.

There is also the problem of 'proud' parents. We seem to put up with this in Starbucks, but pubs? We should not accept our hostelries being misappropriated as makeshift crèches.

Little Tarquin and Jemima run riot, bang into chairs and cry while you parents slurp your Pinot Grigio, bleat about house prices and ignore the fact you're being wilfully blind, smug, inconsiderate gits.

If you behave this way then you are a bad parent. Your supposed little ray of harmonious sunlight is a smelly, spinning ball of noisy spit impinging upon me enjoying my beer.

If you brought one into a pub a generation back we'd have had it cleaning the chimney. A nice old lady may once have told you that your pug-faced Rooney replica is lovely, but to everyone else it's a miniature ASBO in training. Stop using your kids as a privilege card and the pub as a nursery.

If customers thought about people other than themselves, then the world would be a better place. But that's a magical, mystical land made of happiness, chocolate and kittens.

Now, where's my pint? And get out of my way.