Looking for a place to sit in the Sir Charles Napier with a better view of the bar than I eventually found (see 2nd photo), I was confronted with the ghost of Joe Strummer circa 1978. Through brown (let’s call them) “teeth” and a haze of alcohol and reefer, he spotted this sweaty stranger lost in his local and simply had to chat. So, there is where I parked for the duration of the pint.
Friendly fellow that I think (he was a bit hard to understand) only ever wanders far from Bordesley for work (I get the feeling that he has only been to London once and hated it and the outer limits of his other travels are Leeds, Manchester, and Liverpool).
He’s also a Trump fan, so maybe he only looks like our dearly departed Joe.
Endless British Pub Crawl (Part 3) 