Karen Black: Still here and going down fighting

I read in the Express today that pubs and bars are still going out of business at a ridiculous rate. The arguments put forward include cheap supermarket beer, cheap beer and food chains and the smoking ban, amongst others.

A man came into my pub a couple of weeks ago and said with disdain, "How can you run a pub and not make money". "Let me count the ways" says I.

So far I reckon the percentage of the takings goes approximately like this:

Staff salaries - 25%

Government - 40%

Utilities/Phone/wifi - 40%

Brewery rent/insurance/cellar svs - 25%

Business Rates - 10%

Beer Order - 30%

Insurance - 1%

Cash & Carry - 10%

Entertainment - 1%

Bins - 1%

Which I make at about 183%. Now if my sums are correct this may be a bit if a clue as to why they are closing in such large numbers.

I get round it all personally by not paying anything. I just phone companies up, and go, "How much?" (You know, the Yorkshire war cry) in a loud disdainful voice and suggest they review their costs as, "I'm sure your business is not deliberately trying to bankrupt mine, however....".

It then takes these cash-rich businesses weeks to get another bill to me, by which time the takings will have doubled, obviously. These companies might know how to charge, but they really couldn't organize a P$%!-Up in a brewery (unlike our good selves) so it gives us a bit of a respite.

I sorta figure they are doing a refurbishment anyway, so if the bailiffs do come in, it will save us a fortune in having the rubbish taken away (5%) when the builders do turn up. And timed just right will mean the customers will only have to bring their own chairs for less than a week. Well, that's my plan and I'm sticking with it.

Years ago it used to be an event to go shopping in a new town. New shops to explore, new goods to review, but now if you were blindfolded and dropped in any city centre, you'd be hard pressed to decide where you were, as all high streets look the same and sell the same things. No choice is the new choice.

This seems to be the way of the pub too. When I was young we used to dance in pubs, smoke in pubs, drink in pubs. Each pub had something different to offer, none of it included food. I didn't know anyone who was obese.

Now we sit and eat. We sit and eat rubbish at the chains that appear to have cornered the microwave market. We may do a quiz (sitting down) we may play a few games of card bingo (still sitting). And the Government says, "We need to exercise more".

Hmm, before we gentrified pubs into oblivion we did. (Of course, when the bailiffs have been I might even get an award for improving the nation's health with all that standing around we'll have to do).

I started going in pubs at about 15 so did my mum. Neither of us, so far, are showing signs of juvenile delinquency. By the time today's teenagers are allowed in pubs on their own they are already on their way to alcoholism as they sit in fields drinking cheap supermarket cider and smoking goodness knows what. We were controlled by adults when we drank under age. Who are they being controlled by now? Has no one in Government read Lord of the Flies?

It seems to me that as successive Governments and large companies have offered us more "choice" in every aspect of life, they have in fact not only taken away any real choice, but they have also taken away people's ability to choose anything that doesn't have a logo attached.

Someone else said to me, the only proper English pubs you can find now are in Benidorm. I find myself agreeing. There is an entire class of people out there crying out for proper pubs; they still remember having a good time and indulging in their own particular legal vice without having to buy a meal or do a quiz or fight with an eighteen year old they looked at sideways or trip over a child doing the wedding reception slide across the bar floor.

The only way to stop pubs closing is to let them be pubs. And if you don't want to come in because of the smoke, the bad language, the drinking and the loud, dancing people, who may or may not indulge in the occasional snog, fine, go listen to the dulcet ping of the microwaves.

Now that's what I call a real choice.