Fe Fi Fo Fum

Last night, I ventured to an area near downtown for a visit to the Shakespeare Pub and Grille, San Diego's Original British Pub. How could I resist a place with Willie's name on the outside; a good, old-fashioned non-electric dart board on the inside; and a full-force Trivia Night on the last Sunday of every month?

Without a darts partner, I enter to drink in the atmosphere, not the British Ales, Stouts, and Malts, but I notice that there is a fine selection on tap. I order a Miller Lite from a barmaid with a rather authentic accent and take a look at the board listing Specials. Now, any good American knock-off of a British pub offers "Shepherd's Pie", but it's not every one that lists "Bangers and Mash" or "Scotch Egg" among its specialties. Impressive. But not tempting.

After my drink, I saunter over to the Shakespeare Corner Shoppe in the courtyard, where I overhear another authentic accent getting misty over imported candies and jams. "I'm home now" I hear the fellow exclaim.

Outside the shoppe, I discover that the National Comedy Theatre amateur troupe will be performing in an attached space at 7:30 (the pros perform on Friday and Saturday nights). At just 6:30, it will be a good half hour before the box office opens, but for a $5 show, I'm willing to wait. I return to the Shakespeare to order another Miller Lite.

This time, seated at the bar, I catch a glimpse of the Union Jack, America's only national British newspaper. Interesting. You don't see that just any-old-where. Are enough Brits actually displaced to San Diego to warrant a paper? And is that guy really eating a Steak and Kidney pie? Suddenly it hits me: the barmaid, the jelly-lover, the paper, the kidney pie.... I smell the blood of an Englishman. Not one or two, but twelve... or twenty. Switching to aural radar, I beg the question: do they all have authentic accents? They do! Switching to visual: am I the only one not drinking a pint of Guinness? ACK! I am! Check please. And a souvenir T-Shirt.

Across the courtyard, I buy my ticket (a hand stamp) for the improv performance and wait for the show to start. Once underway, the show moves quickly with competitive games propelled by suggestions from the audience -- reminiscent of "Who's Line is it Anyway?" The players, barely college-aged, are quick and clever, but their adolescent male friends in the audience are obnoxious. During some of the faster games the bits aren't quite funny, but such is the nature of improv; the attempt is as important as the execution. All in all, it's a good show of some promising talent and it certainly whets the appetite for another weekend trip downtown to watch the pros at play.

Leaving the courtyard to head home, I decide that I will have to visit here again. One of the girls in my show is Brit-born and proud; perhaps she's a darts player -- we must find out. Unfortunately, I won't make it to Trivia Night at the Shakespeare this go round. I'll save that for my next trip!

Note: If you're like me, you've heard of "Bangers and Mash" and "Scotch Egg" (or maybe you haven't) but you have no clue what they actually are. So, here's the scoop.... Bangers and Mash are pork sausages served with mashed potatoes. Here, they were complimented with onions, gravy, and peas. A Scotch Egg is a hard-boiled egg wrapped in sausage meat, rolled in bread crumbs, baked, and served hot or cold. With a pickle. Now we know.