Round

Fitzroy
Fitz in full Ivor Cutler mode.
I bought my dodgy railway ticket in order to meet Fitz for a pint or six in Birkenhead.

We hadn't seen each other since the unnecessary and draconian smoking ban. Sadly, Fitz had to spend most of the evening standing outside the pub in the rain smoking roll-ups. This despite the fact that every single one of the pub's other customers that evening (i.e. yours truly) had no objection whatsoever to his illegal, evil emissions.

Finally, the penny dropped:

Fitz: I think it must be my round.
Me: In that case, I'll just have a pint.
Fitz: Are you sure I can't persuade you to have a half?


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