The great squash rip-off
HOW much would you expect to pay for a pint of orange squash in a pub?
I’m not talking about the West End of London or even a high-end restaurant locally, just a neighbourhood boozer. And no cherry or slice of lemon on a stick, just an inch or of diluted juice topped up with tap water.
It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that someone buying squash while his mates are on beer is probably doing it for health reasons or because he’s driving and doesn’t want to risk prosecution or an accident. You might think that, knowing this, licensees would be reasonable in their pricing policy – and I suspect most are.
But the one who served my friend in a pub on the Derbyshirenottinghamshire border was anything but reasonable. More like a rip-off merchant, because the charge for a pint of Carling lager and said squash was – take a breath – £7.50. Disgusting, eh?
Not wanting to cause a scene, my mate didn’t ask for the breakdown. He was about to have one himself.
But when you consider that Carling is not a premium beer and sells for no more than £4 in most out-of-town pubs in this region, that makes squash and water £3.50.
How is that going to discourage law-breaking? And how can it be justified when, for example, a one-litre bottle of a big-name orange squash retails for £1.75? The manufacturer says this should provide 20 servings – just under nine pence a time. Let ‘s be generous and put two servings in a pint of squash. That still makes the water £3.32.
I’m erring on the side of fairness by not naming the pub, in the unlikely event that it’s one of many that indulges in such rank profiteering, but this outrage should serve as a warning to anyone going alcohol-free to ask the price before they pay. ■■NOW I bring you a little tale of coincidence in the knowledge that I might be accused of brazen selfpromotion.
I’m keen to promote my new book and visited an Ilkeston printing firm to ask about having flyers produced. I was surprised to meet the member of staff who would be doing the artwork, someone I hadn’t seen for years: my former Post colleague Oonagh Robinson, herself an excellent columnist.
Three days later, a family ramble in Ambergate ended with a visit to a pub I hadn’t been to for at least 25 years. The grandchildren were scampering around when who should appear at another table but Oonagh, with her fella and their dog? How weird!
How A Mozzie Burnt My Bum And More Comic Shorts is available from jmdmedia.co.uk.