Stand up for a Quiet Pint in Auld Reekie

The City of Edinburgh Council is considering changing its licensing regulations. The Draft Statement goes so far as to acknowledge that “the existing policy has served the city well”, but then proposes changing it. City pubs are to close by midnight on weekdays and there will be restrictions on the number of people who are allowed to stand with their drinks.

Two points are worth noting: Glasgow restricted its licensing a few years ago to no discernible positive effect; and forcing bars to allow no more than fifty per cent of their clientele to stand will hurt small independent locals far more than the obvious trouble spots.

And as the following proves, the natives are restless…

The councillors want us to drink like the French,
Not sitting in Hunter Square drunk on a bench,
Nor do they want us to imbibe as we stand,
Since they worry that things will get out of hand.

So up pipes the Licence Committee’s head lass:
“The nightclubs and strip joints will still get a pass,
“But pubs for the locals, they’ll all now be told,
“We’re cutting the hours in which beer can be sold.”

There’s a quota for standing—fifty per cent—
Though when you must pee, then perhaps they’ll relent.
They’ll tally who’s standing and who’s sitting down,
Claiming that this move will bring peace to the town.

The problem’s some people cause trouble and strife:
So many young neds want to carry a knife;
They throw bottles around, and bins are upturned,
Vehicles vandalized, play areas burned.

So the Council decided to turn the tide,
With Kenny MacAskill along for the ride;
They’re forcing a curfew on our local bars—
At midnight’s last stroke, you’ll be out on your arse.

The luvvies in August, though, they’ll be exempt—
It’s just the taxpayers who’re held in contempt;
For the actors and tourists are awfully nice,
And councillors reckon they’re quiet as mice.

But some of us wonder if this can be right
When all that we want is a late, quiet pint.
Don’t make us all pay for the sins of the few,
Just target those making a hullabaloo.

For all the good councillors one day will stand
To rule once again in this part of the land,
But what they will find is, we’ll vote with our feet,
And though they may stand, they will not get a seat.

by a Sub-Versive Friend of Fernando Poo