My BDM is a Vampire!

My mate Len rang me last week. He’d sent a grievance to PICAS a few weeks earlier and had just received feedback. It seemed that before his case could be heard, ‘all avenues of reconciliation had to be explored’. With that in mind, a meeting had been scheduled with the BDM. Len asked me if I’d pop along to offer a bit of moral support.

The evening before the meeting was spent slumped on the sofa, reading through the pub accounts. Eventually succumbing to weariness, I reached for the remote and switched on the TV.

One of the movie channels was showing a re-run of the Hammer Horror classics. Peter Cushing pitting his wits against the demons of darkness; the well endowed Ingrid Pitt adding an attractive demonic perspective to proceedings. Eventually, exhaustion prevailed and I dozed off……..

………..arriving at the pub the following evening, it was clear Len had been meticulous in his preparation. Detailed accounts, beer monitoring print outs and a whole host of other data, all neatly laid out on the table.

A leaflet on the bar highlighted the pubco’s latest gesture of support.

“What’s this?” I enquired.

“Watering solutions for hanging baskets” said Len dismissively. “200 quid for a system I can buy for a quarter of the price at B@Q.”

“How do they justify the price differential?”

“Support” replied Len rolling his eyes. “I ask you! How much support does a hanging basket need?”

“More of those fabled countervailing benefits” I replied. “Pubcos continuing to make a quick buck at the expense of tenants, all under the guise of additional support. It’s an absolute disgrace, it really is. And some people still expect us to believe self-regulation will work, unbelievable!”

“We might need these” I continued, removing some bulbs of garlic and a couple of wooden crosses from my bag.

“Bob, we’re meeting my BDM not Count Dracula.”

Reluctantly pocketing the items, our attention turned to what Len intended to say once his visitor arrived.

The appointed time came and went. Then, just as we began to speculate as to whether or not the BDM would pitch up, a power cut plunged the pub into darkness.

Rummaging around, Len eventually managed to find some candles and we sat in the dimly lit pub, waiting patiently. Forks of lightning and a howling gale outside added to the surreal atmosphere.

Then, without warning, the pub door slowly creaked open and in she walked.   

Blonde and extremely attractive, the BDM wore black trousers and jacket with a white blouse. I couldn’t help but notice the top two buttons were unfastened. Her complexion was deathly pale, offering a marked contrast to her blood red lips.

She sat opposite us and Len wasted no time getting stuck into her, highlighting the fact that rent constituted 23% of turnover. He went on to bemoan the complete absence of countervailing benefits, the outrageous prices the pubco charged for beer and the pitiful margin he was obliged to work with.

“You people are taking the piss” he said, somewhat animatedly. “After outgoings I’m left with f**k all!! I’m not a tenant, I’m a bloody caretaker” he exclaimed. “What do you intend to do about it?”

She made no reply and as Len moved on to the issue of soaring costs, her attention focused on me. Our eyes met and I instantly found myself captivated by her. She had an alluring quality that was all but irresistible. All attempts to avert her steely gaze proved futile. Suddenly I began to feel sleepy, so very sleepy…….

Her attention then turned back to Len.

“We offer support”, she murmured seductively, “so much support”.

“Support! What support? Are you having a laugh?”

“We offer support”, she repeated looking longingly into Len’s eyes, “so much support”.

“Support” repeated Len slowly. “God, do I need that support…..”

“We’re here to help” she said.

“Oh yes”, replied Len, “you’re here to help….”

“Your success is our success; working together under the banner of partnership.”

“Of course! Why didn’t I see it before? Working together for our mutual benefit. God, I’ve been so blind.”

It was clear Len had now fallen completely under her spell.  

She leaned forward, and as if by magic, another button on her blouse popped open.

“Would you like to see our countervailing benefits she whispered seductively?”

“Oh yes”, we chorused. Easing myself forward to get a closer look, I felt something hard inside my trousers.

One of the wooden crosses had dug itself into my thigh. The sudden jab of pain brought me to my senses. It was a fortunate mishap because glancing across at Len, I noticed the BDM had sprouted a huge pair of fangs and was on the verge of sinking them into my mate’s neck.

Pulling one of the crosses from my pocket, I thrust it between Len and this creature of the night. “Get away from him you bloodsucking bitch” I screamed.

The sight of the cross had the desired effect. ‘Ssss…….’ she hissed, before flying off to perch on one of the wooden beams above us.

We’d gained some respite, albeit temporary. This predator wanted blood and it was clear she wasn’t intending on leaving without it.

“Len” I said shaking him. He looked dazed, clearly still bewitched by her charms. I shook him again, this time more violently. “Len” I screamed “snap out of it”.

“She wants to help” he said slowly, “she wants to help”.

“What are you talking about?” I screamed. “Have you forgotten the hanging baskets? She just wants more of your blood Len; she doesn’t give a shit about you!”

“No Bob, you don’t understand, she wants to consolidate our partnership.”

“Too bloody right she does” I replied.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the femme fatale begin to circle us; clearly intent on entrapping me yet again with her hypnotic gaze.

Desperate to avoid eye contact, I focused on her countervailing benefits, trying at the same time to shake some sense into Len.

“Len, for God’s sake man, pull yourself together!”

“She’s here to help” he said, “why didn’t I see it before?”

“Len, have you forgotten what they did to you? Remember when the bailiffs pitched up because you couldn’t afford to pay for your drinks? Or the 10 grand hike in rent to pay for a minor refurb of the toilets?”

Has she offered you a viable FOT option? Has she promised you a below market rent? Has she f**k!!!”

Momentarily distracted, I’d let my guard slip. Turning quickly, I was confronted by the icy stare of the BDM’s hypnotic eyes.

“We’re here to help” she said as another button on her blouse miraculously popped. I felt myself wilt, completely entranced by her once more. She leaned forward, clearly intent on sinking her fangs into my neck. Powerless to resist, all I could think of was those countervailing benefits.

Suddenly a familiar voice….

“Where the f**k is my viable FOT option and below market rent valuation, bitch?”

It was Len! Released from the spell, he was now firmly focused on the job in hand.

His words of wisdom brought me to my senses. Thrusting a cross and a bulb of garlic into my friend’s hand, we began to chant the holy mantra.

“The tied tenant should be no worse off than a free-of-tie tenant.”

For the first time our adversary looked more than a little disorientated. These were clearly words she did not wish to hear.

Buoyed by the impact of our message, we strode forward together; united in both purpose and resolve.

“The tied tenant should be no worse off than a free-of-tie tenant.”

The BDM began to backtrack, a look of desperation registering on her face.

“The tied tenant should be no worse off than a free-of-tie tenant.”

Suddenly, she let out a blood curdling scream before flying out of the pub at a fair rate of knots. The pub door slammed shut behind her.

Returning to the bar, we sat down to enjoy a well earned drink.

“Well”, said Len, “I think all avenues of reconciliation have been explored.

PICAS here we come!”