The Man In The Bar


This is really not much of a blog.

I'm in Morocco at the moment celebrating the first anniversary of a corrective operation which brought to an end 3.5 years of medical cock-ups. The aftermath of which was kidney stones, in May.

I came out here as a retreat, a place to recoup my energies and to write whatever came my way.

A story I'd been scoping was the idea of 'The Man in The Pub'. in the days when we could afford to go to pubs regularly there used to be a man who seemed always to be there and always sat in the same seat, holding court.

It crossed my miind that in these new days, when experts no longer matter ( see Michael Gove for reference), this chap must be really busy.

I did some market research here at the Sunset Surf Hostel, Agadir, and The Man was found to exist in Morocco, France, U.S., The Netherland and italy. This had the makings of a universal story.

And then I met him...

He is here. The living, breathing, antithesis of an expert and he is a brutal caricature. He is Mr Brexit. He is "Think how bad it would it be if Labour where in?".He is a walking glossary of tabloid headlines. He is a bridge too far and I now have problems framing my tale. 

I may just put it away for a while and let the events settle in my mind, but right now It's too raw and too close.


These people actually exist and it is frightening.