Just the One

Excerpt from 'How to Live My Rubbish Life' by John Widdop (Foreword TBA)

I arrived early to Richard "Sitcom" England's Birthday celebrations at noted wank joint 'Edwards', on St Mary's Street, Cardiff. I had to go to the bar and buy a drink alone and then sit down at a table. At this relatively early point in the evening (7.45) there weren't enough people in the place to be gabbing their way around 21st century remixes of presumed forgotten eurodance hits (the sounds du jour of noted wank joint 'Edwards') so I had to be careful. I remembered some lessons about drinking alone I'd acquired during my time as a bored student.

Choosing your weapon is a tough manouevre. Saving face is by and large the order of the day, so don't attempt to buy a drink you don't really understand yourself. For instance; don't buy a real ale with a difficult to pronounce name, because if you get it wrong, you'll look like a damn fool. Similarly, don't ask for a cocktail you're not entirely sure of, because if it comes back and it's got, I don't know, fishpaste in it, and you're allergic to all forms of paste, you're going to look idiotic taking the drink back confessing you didn't know what was in it - either the bartender's going to go Basil Fawlty on you, or you're going to have to find a way of tipping the drink in the toilet / on the floor / in the pot of an imitation rubber plant.
Don't use slang at the bar. It's probably easy to imagine what degree of dickhead goes alone into a bar and asks for Kroney, or Wifebeater, or Bo. Is 'Kroney' even a used abbreviation? Using slang to the barperson if they're male, suggests you want to be their friend, if they're female suggests you want to lick their face. However, it's important to note that often the drinks that have these slang terms are the extremely popular white-shirt taxi-home 9-to-5 'sensible' drinks that have no social stigma attached to them whatsoever. These are safe drinks to enjoy whilst alone in a bar.
Spirits pose an interesting dilemma. As anyone who's watched Eastenders knows, the step up to spirits basically means you're an alcoholic. Ordering a double in a bar in solitude is merely one step away from sitting three meters away on the steps outside with a brown paper bag, in the watchful eyes of the public. Singles are just about do-able, depending on what the spirit is. If it's vodka, people may wonder why you're buying a more expensive drink in a place you're clearly having no fun in. Jack Daniels and coke may seem like a good idea, with it's cooler-than-thou "I'm going to impress the bartender and everyone in the building" exterior and "God, I'm hip" interior, but beware. If you're as dangerously thrilling as your drink entails, then why did you turn up early / turn up at the wrong bar / do you not have any friends / feel the need to impress strangers in a bar with your choice of drink. Ordering gin on your own is the first sign of madness.
Anyone who buys shots on their own is a disgrace to society and an imminent danger that the world is going to implode. Even I've never done shots on my own, and I've bought vodka jellys from Thresher in Winchester and eaten them watching an episode of Dinnerladies on my own in my parents house, But shots on your own. I've never seen this, and I've seen a lot of depraved behaviour watching the people of South Wales try and extend their family tree. If you geniunely the sort of person who can line up shots on a bar with nobody watching you, down them, and then snort salt and lemon off your sleeve, then good luck to you in the next life, buddy, because there's no hope for you now in this one.
Cocktails: As mentioned above, don't take a gamble on these unless you're dead certain what's in them (you don't want another 'fishpaste incident'). Secondly, don't order something with a saucy name, because the bartender will assume you're going to masturbate over them there and then. Don't order something with an infinite number of fruit slices or paper parasols, or curly straws in, because this is giving the false impression that you are rich and successful, which you are not if you're ordering cocktails alone in noted wank joint 'Edwards'. If you were rich and successful, you could at the very least buy a few friends. There is also the danger that you look like a used car salesman or estate agent.
Don't sit at the bar. I've never worked in a bar, but I can imagine there is nothing at all worse than having to make tedious chat with bored, lonely fuckers with pathetic lives and a pint of lager. It's why I'm glad I don't have to make conversation with myself. The number of times the poor barperson will have to say "that's a shame", or 'How's the leg?" or "What was your wifes fitness instructor called again?" or more often than not "I'm just going down to the basement of slice off my own face with a broken martini glass. Oh yes - definitely don't order Martini. Only one person ever has been given the right to that, and he usually knows the bartender, and is also fictional. You are not fictional, and the bartender certainly isn't going to want to know someone who thinks they're James Bond, with muddy rain seeping out of their soles.
The trick of where to sit depends a lot on the bar in question. If it's quite a large place, not unlike noted wank joint 'Edwards', anywhere will do, providing you don't sit on a table right next to another group of people when there's ample space elsewhere. This makes you look like an eavesdropper, and you'll probably be karate chopped the second you leave. If you actually are waiting for someone to arrive, then sit somewhere that means you'll see the person arrive, but the vast majority other people who lead normal existences, don't notice you. It's also good to sit out of sight of the bar, because then the bartenders when they have their inevitable 'who's that twat on his own' conversation, they're not looking directly at you as you stare blankly into space and/or scribble on the beermat with a biro. Don't stand up when you could be sitting, thats just generally a bit awkward. If there is nowhere to sit because the place is too busy, then you're a little stuck, but ultimately the unlikely solution is to keep moving, at least if it's that busy, who's going to notice one more gawping twat stagging around the bar on their own?
The smoking ban threw a bit of a spanner in the works, but it can be exploited to your advantage. The bad news is that when you go outside, you've got to carry all your possessions and your drink with you, thus leaving your prime seating arrangement to any collection of bastards. The good news is, especially if the bar has glass windows, is that you can appear to have a conversation with the other people smoking outside, reducing your loner quotient slightly. If you're feeling really daring, you could try talking to the smokers, at least you've all got something in common. I'll suggest "God I hate this fucking smoking ban" as an original ice-breaker.
There are probably hundreds of other, smaller rules which can be stuck to, but a lot the fun is in trial and error. Another good one is 'don't go to the same bar you used to always frequent with your ex partner'. Another gem: Don't attempt at any stage, to try and offer excuses as to why you're on your lonesome tonight. Nobody cares because you're a sad pathetic loser with no friends.