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The best pub in Fort William

Posted by Alex On October - 25 - 2011

“My legs ache, but I’m really glad we did that,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor.

“If Ben Nevis thought it could get the better of William Shakespeare, it knows better now,” said Shakespeare.

Ellis-Bextor laughed and shoved him gently. “Sophie Ellis-Bextor conquered it as well, you know.”

“You didn’t teach it a lesson like I did though, did you?”

“No,” said Ellis-Bextor, suddenly serious. I don’t know why you did that really.

“I want that fucking mountain to remember me,” said Shakespeare.

“I think it will,” said Ellis-Bextor darkly.

The pair strode down the street until they came across the pub they were looking for.

“There it is,” said Ellis-Bextor. “The best pub in Fort William, they say. What better place to spend the evening after a hard day’s walking.”

They pushed through the door and were hit by warm air. Shakespeare had worked up a thirst. “Right, what are you having?” he asked.

“Ooh, let me see,” said Ellis-Bextor, but then she suddenly realised that Shakespeare was no longer next to her.

She turned round and he was still hovering in the doorway. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I dunno. I’m not sure about this place. I’m kind of having second thoughts.”

“What are you on about? It’s exactly what we were hoping for. Warm, quiet – we can have a few drinks and something to eat.”

Shakespeare shuffled his feet and wiped his palms down the sides of his breeches. “Yeah, but, you know. Shall we just have a look at somewhere else first?”

“Come on,” said Ellis-Bextor, but upon turning towards the bar, she realised the problem. There were three velociraptors standing there, peering at them and mouth-breathing.

She turned back towards Shakespeare. “Oh, I see. It’s this again.”

“What?” said Shakespeare, innocently.

“I don’t know what’s with you sometimes. Let’s just get a drink. It’ll be fine.”

One of the raptors emitted a high-pitched shriek. Shakespeare visibly jumped.

“Fuck this,” he said and turned to walk out.

Ellis-Bextor stormed after him. “Do you actually have any balls?” she roared.

“Yes,” sobbed Shakespeare, stumbling through the doorway. “They’re small and saggy and worthless.”

He cried all the way back to the hotel and Ellis-Bextor walked with one hand on his back, forlornly trying to comfort him. She felt extraordinary guilt at having homed in one of his biggest insecurities in the heat of the moment.

Only when they got back to the hotel did Shakespeare appear to perk up. “Give me a blowie,” he demanded.

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