Spo’ed caaaahhh… Spottycaaare…. The Spoddad Cah…. Spoh ca’oo…. Spo’y coah…. *clears throat* The SPOTTED COW.
It just rolls off the tongue a bit too easily, doesn’t it? All those occlusive interruptions are too much like hard work for your average visitor to cut-above-the-average drinking dens, be they from Bedminster, Bloemfoentein or Bloomsbury. So the name becomes just a collection of syllables, a noise for restless knaves to honk at each other of a Saturday afternoon, champing at the bit to go blot out their brains for the rest of the weekend.
Look. A cow. With spots. Hur hur.
Which is pretty good work for a relatively recent opening, after all – most pubs would die for such a state of affairs. But then, the Spotty Cahhhh isn’t most pubs – or perhaps it is. It’s a one-size-fits-all drinking den, comfortably covering the needs of the modern-day pub-goer, from fancy burgers to exotic lagers, expensively upholstered seats to DJ nights, chirpy barstaff to capacious outside space, toffs to townies, kids to parents with kids… the whole gamut.
I mean, it’s not pub heaven, or anything. S’just the spo’y cow, owright me babber?
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