Scanky Shithole Harvester Bar/ Restaurant (aka The Shorehouse - Shoeburryness)

There's a lemon floating in a bowl of water. Posted above the bowl is a tacky printed piece of A4 paper with a challenge on it. "Balance a 20 pence piece on top of the lemon and win a free pint". Littering the bottom of the water filled bowl are countless coins, just another testament to the ineptitude of the masses. I take one look and I know that I can accomplish this obviously tricky task and certainly for less than the price of a pint.

I withdraw the designated coin form the drinker's shrapnel in my pocket and with every ounce of my will and determination gently lay the piece of silver atop the citrus raft. Sure enough slowly but surely the lemon starts to shift and the coin slides sideways from its dimpled yellow skin and drops into the water to join the other shipwrecks of certainty at the bottom of the ocean of FAIL.

Now a lot of people would have stopped here, but I am not 'a lot of people'. I dig deep in my pocket and bring forth a second coin. This time I've seen how the lemon is likely to behave, this time I know more than before, this time I will succeed and I will claim my 'free drink' (something I am quite passionate about). I gently bring the surfaces of metal and fruit to union. I hold place just for a fraction of a second to be sure my understanding of the complex physics involved has not been in error… then I let go.

The coin sits proud atop the lemon. It does not fall, the lemon does not move, the coin does not slide, it remains a happy passenger of the yellow ship Triumph.

It takes almost two full minutes to gather the attention of a barmaid to witness my miraculous achievement, at which point she simply says "doesn't count, the lemon is touching the coins at the bottom"…

Who the? Fuck the? What the? I fucking nailed it and she belittles the quite honestly remarkable feat of dexterity and concentration with trite disregard.

Cheat me out of a free drink that I won fair and square is what you say is it… OK!

Next stop; nearest gas station for a gallon of their finest and a box of easy strike matches.

I'll be back momentarily.

Cheers.