The Pub and the People
An Afterword
Ed Shackle and Bertie Wnek
Introduction
The Pub and the Peopleis a little known but brilliant piece of ethnographic research, conducted in the late 1930s and published after. The short book summarised the work of a group of researchers who spent several weeks in a series of pubs in Bolton, which – thanks to this group and their colleagues – was a centre of observational research in England in the 1930s.
Bolton was known in research circles as “Worktown”. Over time, Bolton became a place where researchers observed different aspects of daily life, designed to help policymakers understand how prospective policy development ought to be conducted. These research exercises ultimately evolved into the Mass Observation 1 projects, best known for helping the Government understand public behaviour and attitudes during the early days of the Second World War.
Public First researchers have always been intrigued by – and indeed inspired by – the work of those involved in these early observational studies. Their work was incredibly sophisticated and deserves not only greater recognition, but to be adapted to modern times by research agencies now.
In a world where researchers can do so much work from their own computers – many, many miles away from people they’re studying – there is a risk that research agencies become detached from ordinary people. Without meaningful interaction, pure desk research risks claiming results which are simply unrealistic, if not wrong.
Public First has always taken qualitative research seriously for this reason. We have always strongly believed in the need to engage directly with voters. In recent times, we have created a new product to help us do this better: immersive research.
This approach puts our researchers into locations for much longer periods than is common in qualitative projects, particularly those with a political focus (where research typically takes place over a few hours in a single evening). Our researchers now regularly spend whole days in locations, interviewing people who are going about their daily lives and are therefore in their natural environments.
This study – essentially an “Afterword” to the original The Pub and the People study – was created through a variation of this immersive approach. In this study, we took the same sort of observational approach – albeit in a much shorter time frame.
We don’t claim this research to have been as exhaustive as the original study, which is why we consider it an Afterword. But it followed a similar model and produced a series of fascinating portraits of everyday life in Bolton.
We hope readers find it as interesting as we found the research.
Methodology
In the spirit of the original study, we have changed the names of the pubs. There’s no great secret about where we went; we just thought better to reflect the approach taken back in the 1930s. Local people will easily recognise the pubs we visited and will hopefully appreciate our thoughts on them. We have been much stricter with our descriptions of those people we observed, using different names for staff and customers. Nobody we describe can be recognised by readers.
We used a thick description methodology, where our researchers made detailed accounts of what they saw in the field, and made explicit the patterns and cultural and social relationships which they observed, and put them in context.2
How we conducted our research
Research Design
Data collection
Ethical considerations
Executive Summary
The data gathered by the researchers in this study separated into three broad areas of pub life: live football; leisure activity and entertainment; and the prevalence of money and work in conversation.
Chapter 1:
Live Football
Across observed pubs in Bolton, live football was shown in 70%. While smaller fixtures often appear in the background of the pub, ‘big fixtures’ dictate the flow of activity; which customers are present and when; at what point they buy a drink and so on. In terms of the football itself, Video Assistant Referee (VAR) draws the most attention and engagement, people become more animated and spend longer talking about these decisions than any other aspect of the televised games.
Chapter 2:
Leisure
Drinking is naturally central to pub life. Over the observed period, customers tended to drink predominantly lager and ale, and would consume more on the weekends, but these habits varied depending on other factors such as the presence of karaoke or live football. Karaoke – and live music – is deeply popular in Bolton pubs, and has a similar impact to live football in terms of dictating the behaviour of people in pubs. While these organised events tend to happen in the evenings or weekend afternoons, gambling – primarily on fruit machines and online – is a consistent activity that carries on uninterrupted during every pub’s opening hours.
Chapter 3:
Money and Work
Over the course of the study, particularly among older pubgoers, retirement was a regular talking point. Other standard topics of conversation such as experiences at work and in employment were common among both strangers and familiar acquaintances; what people liked and disliked about it and their hours and remuneration etc. There was a level of disposable income among people observed, generally affluent working-class or lower-middle class – and it was common to talk about planned holidays or presents they planned to buy for grandchildren.
Chapter One
Live Football
That’s fucking ridiculous – I want Rangers to win but it’s just not a penalty, it’s just fucking not.
It is a Sunday afternoon in a Bolton pub just outside the town centre, The Fox and Hounds, and a grey-haired man in his 60s mutters in exasperation at the last-minute drama in the afternoon’s early football kick-off. He drinks a pint of Fosters lager, and wears a black puffer jacket, grey trousers and grey socks.
The interior of The Fox and Hounds is U-shaped, with the bar sitting centrally, opposite the door. It is wooden with four raised seats immediately in front. There are six lagers or ales and two ciders on tap. A range of spirits hang behind the bar, with a tray of coffee cups set out neatly below them. On the bar’s left side is a pool table accompanied by a single stool and three tables. A fruit machine stands against the wall. Cushioned bench seating runs along the wall opposite the bar around to the door. There are five screens in this area of the pub, three in front of the bar and two by the pool table. Each screen is well-used and at least 10 years old.
To the right of the bar is a larger carpeted side room plastered with blue and white wallpaper with cushioned bench seating running along three of the four walls; it holds seven round tables, each with two or three stools. In the corner is a rectangular table for dominoes topped with green felt; this table has four backed wooden chairs.
There is a well-used dartboard on the wall above the table with a blackboard heavily marked in white chalk. This room has three wall mounted television screens and a projector which illuminates two thirds of the wall behind the dominoes table. The pub’s other fruit machine is in the threshold between this side room and the bar.
There are a number of ‘home’ touches to the pub. Next to the door is a large wooden coat stand, adorned with the patrons’ jackets. The walls are covered with framed pictures of Bolton, some of the town itself, others of successful Bolton football teams from the twentieth century, all are black and white and steeped in nostalgia. In the disused fireplace, and also in two other spots in the pub, are pictures of the same older local man from the community – one with a birthday cake, another with a grandchild on his lap (it is unclear if they are in memoriam).
A short-haired black poodle wanders freely around the pub, occasionally stroked absentmindedly by customers. Behind the bar there is one woman, who most customers address by her first name, Linda.
The exasperated man is perched on a bar stool. Along with his fellow pubgoers – with whom he is clearly familiar and friendly – he has been closely following the VAR (video assistant referee)3 decision-making process in the closing stages of the Rangers versus Aberdeen football match. The fixture, which was heading towards an Aberdeen victory, has been temporarily paused in injury time while the technology analyses a potential penalty claim for Rangers. A male companion of similar age, sitting at the bar to his left, grumbles while staring at the wall mounted screen directly in front of them, “every time you look [at the screen] it’s a fucking penalty.”
Silence. The VAR process continues.
The man turns back to face his companion,
“who’s top of the league, Celtic?”
“Yeah.”
The VAR asks the referee to pause the game and look at the on-screen monitor which replays highlights of the incident; he does so and, after a four-minute delay, awards a penalty. Rangers score the penalty to equalise.
“It’s a contact sport.”
“It is.”
“It was never a penalty but as soon as that referee went over to the screen you knew he was gonna give it.”
“VAR is a joke.”
“If you look at something in slow motion sooner or later you’re gonna find something.”
The conversation drifts to the Liverpool versus Manchester City game the previous day. The men discuss a challenge on the Liverpool goalkeeper that was given as a foul by VAR, which they saw as more evidence of the technology getting things wrong. This discussion was typical of those observed while VAR decisions were taking place during matches.
In the same pub less than two hours after the Rangers versus Aberdeen game, during a more prominent fixture between Aston Villa and Tottenham – two sides towards the top of the English Premier League – another decision sparked outrage.
Aston Villa have just been denied an equalising goal by VAR, and the room, which until that point had been divided into groups of two or three customers in view of the screens but in loose conversation, are collectively drawn to the match. As the decision is scrutinised, 12 of the 13 people in the room are fully focused on the screens and all conversation pauses. For the duration of the three minute review process all talk is about whether the penalty decision should stand and whether VAR has scrutinised the decision from the appropriate camera angles.
“From that angle it doesn't look like a penalty at all, [the screen shows a different angle] but from this one it does.”
“That’s never a penalty.”
“It’s taking too long.”
Three more VAR decisions mean the rest of the match follows a similar pattern. VAR directly affects life in the pub; it completely changes the atmosphere.
Over the course of the study, in almost all matches where VAR was used, fans were observed complaining about the technology – often multiple times in the same game. These concerns were chiefly around the consistency, accuracy, and length of time taken for VAR decisions. However, despite this, it was evident that the VAR decision-making process captured fans’ attention more than any other aspect of the 90-minute games. They would discuss a VAR decision for longer than a typical goal – the other major talking point in football matches – particularly if they thought it was controversial, and they tended to be more animated when doing so.
It was common in pubs to see people watch replays as opposed to the full game. When a match was being shown, those in conversation or on their phones would look up at the screen as soon as a replay displayed a goalscoring chance being squandered or an aggressive foul committed. Then – when the replay finished – they went back to what they were doing. VAR maximises the number of replays in each game. Different angles, speeds and passages of play are scrutinised over and over. In this way, while fans tended to complain about VAR, they were often more fixated on the screen than they would have been without it.
While most games lacked intense fascination or do-or-die passion from pubgoers, televised football matches were a significant driver behind when people went to the pub and which pubs they frequented.
The pubs themselves, and what they offered, reflected this trend. Of the 10 pubs observed in the study, seven showed live sports. Football was fundamental to almost all the pubs. For example, in one pub, Smith’s, on a Saturday afternoon, there were only 25% less people (47) inside at 12:30 – to watch the early kick-off between Liverpool and Manchester City – than there were at 20:30 that same evening (63), traditionally a peak time and one that coincided with a live music performance (another major driver in footfall).
During the course of the study, our observers watched nine full-length football matches in Bolton pubs. They also partially observed a number of other football matches. The times of the full games are below:
*At these times observers were watching the same football match in different pubs.
When pubs showed ‘big’ games – typically between top Premier League or local teams – the match would drive the flow of activity inside the pub: when people arrived; when they left; when they ordered drinks; when they went for a cigarette; and when they went to the toilet.
In these moments, the routine of the pub reflected the course of the match. For example, it was common to see people heading to the bar to buy a drink before kick-off, and again at half time. During the interval, groups would also zip up their coats and step outside the building for between two and five minutes to smoke cigarettes or to vape.
As well as activity within the pub, higher-profile football fixtures had a real impact on the demographics of customers. They attracted younger, mostly male friendship groups, older men on their own, and older married couples. The same couldn’t be said for when football was a ‘background’ fixture – i.e. with fewer than a handful of people paying attention. These matches were typically between lower-ranked or foreign teams, and had little noticeable impact on the atmosphere.
Older men watching alone were more likely to be seen during high profile matches. In The Fox and Hounds, during the Manchester City versus Liverpool match, there were ten male customers between the ages of 40 and 75 watching the game by themselves. While pubs usually had men who came or went on their own, it would often be to join an established group or to at least involve themselves in their conversation; people tended to know others in the pub, and even if they did not sit together there would be customary greetings.
In pubs where football wasn’t being played, the numbers of men drinking alone were far fewer on average relative to the rest of the customers.
For example, in The Howard’s sports pub, as the live entertainment started on a Saturday evening there were 63 people inside, only one (an older male) was sitting alone. On a Monday evening in a different pub, The Red Lion, while a Premier League football match was being played there were 20 people (all for the game) and six (all male) were watching alone. This was also the case during the same game further down the road at The Fox and Hounds where, out of seven customers, three were men watching alone. These lone men would usually drink full pints of either lager or ale while watching the games with differing levels of attention. In particularly busy periods, they tended to sit or stand at the bar.
Despite the prevalence of men sitting alone during matches, the relationship between football and socialising was evident.
During a midweek game, one older man sits on a high stool, next to a group of younger men in their 30s. He drinks John Smith’s (ale). The three younger men drink Madri (lager). One of the younger men sitting on this table says to his companion – who is on his phone and not paying attention – “Haaland goal”. All of them look up to the screen. The older man drinking John Smith’s simply says, partly to himself and partly to the group: “nothing wrong with that”.
The previous evening, in a separate pub, Howard’s, two men in their 50s sit together watching a Premier League game between Wolverhampton Wanderers and Fulham. Both watch the screen. One talks about a player he’d never heard of before: “what a fucking name that is” before following it up with “it’s [VAR] a joke”.
Exchanges like these were typical when matches were being played. Lone males sitting or standing near each other would often talk during the game, commenting on refereeing decisions, VAR, or speaking about the match more generally. These interactions were not fully fledged conversations but occasional back-and-forths between customers focusing on the screen as opposed to each other.
Men over fifty would either be sat with their partners, women usually of the same age, or on their own. Couples tended to watch the games more closely than the average customer. In fact, married couples were an overrepresented group amongst football fans more generally, and were frequently seen watching higher profile football matches together.
Younger males (aged 18-40) frequented pubs in significantly fewer numbers than those over forty. When they did visit pubs, it would often be in groups, and was often during high profile football matches.
Pubs that did not broadcast football often relied on other sources of entertainment or focus. Whether live music, food, gambling or rolling news, there was often some other form of entertainment on offer. With different entertainment there came a change in clientele and customer behaviour, which are the focus of the remaining chapters of this study.
Chapter Two
Leisure
Early afternoon on a November Monday – a man in his 60s enters The White Horse pub and walks towards the bar. He carries an umbrella. His other hand fumbles for change which clinks together in a jacket pocket. Veronica, who is serving, preempts his order,
“Carlsberg?”
“Yeah.”
The man, Gavin, has thinning grey hair, glasses and a well worn navy jacket which he keeps zipped up.
“You okay?”
He asks Veronica.
“Yeah, you?”
“All the better for seeing you of course”
“Oh right, okay. Thank you,”
responds Veronica, laughing politely. Gavin pays for his pint in coins – mostly 20ps – counting them out methodically to £2.80.
The White Horse is imposing from the outside. Union Jack bunting hangs outside across the pub’s brick facade. The two first-floor windows are draped in remembrance flags depicting the silhouettes of lone soldiers In Flanders’ Fields behind the words, “Lest We Forget”. Beneath them, rows of small poppies form an orderly line across two ground-floor windows either side of the entrance. An outdoor pavement sign reads:
Special Offer
All Day Wednesday
Carlsberg £2
John Smith's £2
A second outdoor sign – on the wall beside the entrance – reads Forecast for tonight, alcohol, low standards & poor decisions!Upon reaching the front step, a stern notice on the door warns customers that shoplifters are unwelcome and that anyone seen buying or selling goods will be reported to Pub Watch.
Inside, the pub is split into three sections. The bar area, which is on the right of the front door on entry, is a large rectangular shaped space leading to the pub toilets and a small enclosed beer garden.
Two side-rooms are opposite the bar. They are both similar in size, each with a disused fireplace in the centre of the far wall. The right of the two is the games room. Here, a large dartboard hangs prominently above and to the left of the fireplace. To its right, a chalk scoreboard is fixed to the wall emblazoned with Coca-Cola sponsorship. The room’s only window is draped with a large St George’s flag which shrouds it in a premature darkness. A large flask – used for tea and coffee – rests on a side table. Before it, there is a tray stacked with empty mugs. Above the flask hangs a framed picture of Winston Churchill’s famous two-finger victory salute.
The neighbouring side room is the only carpeted room in the pub – dark wooden floorboards cover the rest. On the mantelpiece rests a framed photo of a man inside the pub (as with The Fox and Hounds it is unclear if it is in memoriam), again in black and white, next to a silver clock. Above the fireplace is a large raised screen that shows horse racing. The other source of entertainment is a fruit machine by the room’s entrance.
In the bar area a screen playing rolling news hangs over the entrance to the carpeted room and to the right of the pub’s second fruit machine. The bar itself is wooden, and sits in the middle of the room, flanked by two small alcoves. It is draped with a large Remembrance Day banner and plastic poppies have been affixed to the beer taps. Near the bar is a plaque – engraved with the Manchester United football team badge – dedicated to a local man who died some time ago. To its right there is a framed letter of condolence from Sir Alex Ferguson, the-then club manager.
In the alcove nearest the entrance, there is a framed picture of King Charles III and another of the late Queen Elizabeth II. It is sparsely furnished, with a solitary poster of the English national football team symbol, the Three Lions. In the opposite alcove, a large framed picture of David Bowie hangs. Next to him, there is a modern jukebox.
Union Jack bunting criss-crosses the ceiling into each of the three spaces. The pub is dimly lit by multicoloured wall mounted lights.
After Veronica closes the register, Gavin walks slowly from the bar to the seating area in the alcove nearest the entrance. He sits opposite a younger man in his 40s, Mark. Mark wears a branded work jacket and a woolly hat. He immediately strikes up a conversation with Gavin – evidently a stranger to him – about his job as a bus driver, offering that he has just finished an all-day shift. Their conversation is easy and unbroken but they continue to sit apart. Mark has an upbeat demeanour and drives the conversation. On the chair beside him is a frayed white plastic bag with a pair of worn shoes in it. Though they acknowledge they have never spoken to one another before, they recognise each other from various pubs in and around Bolton
“I’ve definitely seen you about before. Where do you drink?”
Mark asks.
“The Plough and Plume of Feathers, mostly”
“I think I’ve seen you in The Plough or Howard’s it was?”
Gavin agrees that he’s seen Mark around Bolton.
“I’ve been drinking here [The White Horse] for about three or four weeks now. What’s your name by the way?”
“Gavin”
“Mine’s Mark”
“Mark. Nice to meet you, Mark”
“I should have introduced myself!”
Mark is drinking a pint of lager (Fosters) and he sits with his legs spread casually open, facing his new friend. Gavin is more reserved, and sits in the corner, slightly to an angle allowing him sight of most of the pub.
Soon after, another man, Keith, walks up to the bar. He is in his late 40s and has been drinking in the carpeted room for at least half an hour. Keith wears a woollen hat and a red and black chequered fleece jacket which is splattered with light grey mud on the back. He orders an ale (John Smith’s) from Veronica.
“Where were you yesterday?”
She asks.
Keith explains that he was in Yorkshire: “Not walking. Drinking.” Making conversation, he asks Veronica when her next holiday is and she responds that it is planned for mid-January. When asked why she isn’t taking Christmas off, Veronica says last year it was too expensive, gloomily noting that it cost a total of £14,0004 for eight people to go away all-in-all from Christmas to New Year.
“I’m not surprised. You can do a lot with that.”
Keith responds, picking up the pint of ale to go back to his chair.
“I'll build you a new house for that.”
Mark and Gavin are still talking about their drinking habits – what, where and when they usually drink.
Mark projects his voice so that it confidently fills the entire bar area,
“If I go to Manchester, I usually walk about. Go into a few places. But if I'm in Salford, I go in my local. I just stay in there all day.”
Mark and Gavin move onto a discussion about what they drink. Gavin, fiddling with a crutch, which rests on the seat to his right, states softly, in a matter of fact way,
“I drink San Miguel and Stella when I’m in town.”
Speaking about his Foster’s, Mark adds
“Mind you, this one’s the cheapest pint in here, and gorgeous [sic] pint as well.”
The conversation moves on to a particular pub in Heaton Park, where, according to Mark,
“the cheapest pint is £5.50 and the most [expensive] is £6.50. Then you come here [The White Horse] and there is a £3 difference. How can they justify that? Sometimes me and my missus take our granddaughters there for something to eat, but dead expensive, dead expensive.”
Gavin agrees
“nowt has changed, nowt has changed. It’s been the same for the last eight, nine years. Dead expensive.”
Drinking
Across all pubs observed in Bolton, this type of scenario was common. Not only did the activity of drinking bring people together, but drinking itself was a popular source of conversation.
Drinking was central to pub life. An obvious but unavoidable point. Regardless of the customer or the activity, alcohol was the common thread. Whether watching sports; reading the newspaper alone; talking with friends; gambling; eating dinner; or taking part in karaoke; customers were almost always drinking alcohol. The quantities and speed with which they drank varied greatly but the drink in front of them was constant.
How Much Did People Drink?
The quantities people drank changed according to the day, time and occasion. On weekends and evenings people tended to drink more than during mornings, early afternoons and weekdays earlier in the week.
There were notable exceptions to this, particularly when there was a live football match being shown that had a high level of interest. For example, the match between Liverpool and Manchester City described in Chapter One, took place at 12:30pm on a Saturday. As explained, the pub was busier than pubs not showing the football at this time and, because of this there were more people drinking than there otherwise would have been. Apart from live football, there are multiple other occasions that drive drinking in the pub. These primarily include karaoke and gambling (explored later in this chapter).
There were very few non-drinkers. Those that were not drinking alcohol tended to consist of people drinking soft drinks or, before midday, tea and coffee. Pubs reflected this trend, where it was common to display tea and coffee sets prominently on their bar during these hours. Such sets would typically not be used again after the early afternoon.
Weekday mornings had the fewest number of drinkers in pubs. In these instances, people were drinking tea or coffee – sometimes with food – although there were still a significant number of people drinking alcohol. During the first opening hour of business on weekday mornings it was noted that pubs that serve food were busier than those that don’t. For example, the following number of people were in Bolton pubs at a randomly sampled time between 11:17 and 12:05 pm on a weekday Wednesday morning in November.
*serves food
What people drank
Unlike the quantities people drank, whatthey drank was largely consistent through the week. This was overwhelmingly lager and ale, sometimes cider for men. And lager for women, sometimes wine. There was some exception to this on weekend nights (Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays) and also specifically when people were taking part in some form of activity, such as karaoke. In these circumstances, people often drank spirits with a mixer, or cocktails.
However, in the main it was lager and ale. People would tend to stick to the same drink throughout the period they were in the pub, even if they were in a group.
The following reflects the total drinks observers recorded being consumed over the period. This below breakdown comes from a sample of 474 distinct beverage orders.
What people drank also varied by age and gender. Some of this information is relayed below – it’s taken from two separate two-hour windows across a single Saturday at one pub (roughly 160 customers were seen in these times, although not all of their drinks were recorded)
This does not take into account the total number of drinks consumed by each customer, rather just the type of drink and brand. As we point out above, it was very rare to see drinkers switch drinks within one session. Madri was more popular amongst younger age groups, with 44 customers drinking it (of the 69 customers drinking lager). Only 25% of those drinking Madri were over the age of 40. 17 were drinking John Smith’s (all of those drinking ale) with the 40+ age group drinking 75% of those. This points to a significantly clear difference in taste across demographics.
Behaviour when drinking
People rarely stuck to one pub when drinking. Instead, ‘pub hopping’ – where typically older men would drink in several pubs within Bolton over a single period – was more common.
Pub hopping is primarily a way to socialise, or to increase the number of drinkers people cross paths with on any one day. Pub hoppers would drink in different surroundings, catch up with friends and acquaintances from across the town, before finishing their drink(s) and moving on to repeat the process at another pub.
On a Tuesday just after midday, four men in their 60s are drinking pints of Fosters in The Crown pub, talking casually about how busy The Plume of Feathers (part of a large pub chain) had been earlier in the day. “It’s always busy”,one man adds.
Another three men – in their 30s or 40s – enter and order three ales. They are labourers, and are dressed in work clothing. The men join the other group of drinkers standing comfortably around a table. The pub is bright and cold. GB News plays without volume on four of the pub’s TV screens.
The men talk about going to see karaoke at the Howard’s pub later, before moving onto discussing lunch options. One suggests going to a local café, but one of the labourers responds by suggesting buying a pasty and bringing it back to the pub. Two of the men decide it’s a good idea and leave, informing the remaining drinkers: “We’ll be back.”
At this, one of the group orders a Wainwright ale for himself. He is smartly dressed in a green overcoat, grey corduroy trousers and brown leather shoes. He rings someone – presumably his partner – and asks them to prepare something for him when he gets home. The call only lasts 20 seconds but the man forgets to pick up his ale from the bar and is reminded by the young female bartender. “Thanks again, love”says the man as he picks up the pint and receives a stamp on a loyalty card. She then wipes down the bar before reading a book as she stands behind the taps.
One of the labourers returns with two sausage baps in white paper bags, and goes straight to the bar to order a Carlsberg. The other enters shortly after and heads straight to the toilet, ordering another Fosters on the way back to the table.
These drinkers have not come to the pub ‘together’, their paths have merely crossed at this particular pub at this particular time, and, being familiar with each other, they have coalesced into a single group. A seventh man enters The Crown wearing a Canada Goose jacket and gloves, complaining about how “It’s fucking freezing”, as he joins the group, taking his gloves off. The conversation is spirited and jovial. The men talk about a range of local issues, including a recent fire at a local restaurant.
At this point, one of the men drains his pint and then leaves the pub on his own, leaving six other men around the table. Sensing this session has run its course, one-by-one the men finish their drinks and drift out. One tells the group that he is going to Howard’s as he leaves. Soon there is only one remaining customer from this group left. He is a man in his 50s, wearing a thick coat with many layers underneath. Now in virtual silence, he stares calmly outside the window with two-thirds of his pint of ale left. Altogether, the episode lasts 56 minutes.
This behaviour was not limited to older men, though. Women were also observed pub hopping, although this was much less common.
On a Sunday night in The Plume of Feathers, a group of six (four men, two women) are drinking. The four men are all aged over 50 and drinking lager, the two women are slightly younger and drinking cocktails from a large pitcher. One of the women, who has an eastern European accent, is pushing the group to move on to the next pub. There is a group discussion of where that should be and one of the men, in no particular hurry, slowly lists the options that are open. One of the women, becoming increasingly impatient, makes the case for it to be a pub with live music. “I want music, let’s go dance – music, music, music. Come on let’s go now.”While the presence of women in these groups was not uncommon, at no point were women observed pub hopping without the company of men. They would only do so in mixed groups of men and women.
Karaoke/live music
The popularity of karaoke in Bolton
Immediately obvious to anyone spending time in any of Bolton’s pubs is the appeal of live music and, more specifically, karaoke. The sense of karaoke’s popularity in Bolton only grows with time. Pavement signs compete with one another to offer karaoke at longer intervals on more nights of the week; out-of-tune voices regularly fill the street; in the Bag of Nails, patrons have the option to do karaoke for every minute that the pub’s doors are open throughout the year.
In Howard’s pub on a Saturday night, the karaoke music is audible from the front smoking area. Saturday evenings are particularly popular, with 78 customers gathered. A woman in a dark red sequin dress is the evening’s host.
As she sets up, she intermittently breaks into tune as if to cajole others, and circles the pub tables carefully placing pens and scraps of paper on which customers are invited to write their names and song choices. When she later circles back to pick them up she uses the scraps of paper to call out willing participants one-by-one. In between songs she plays pub host, welcoming customers as they drip through the doors: “It’s Baltic outside grab yourself a drink. Warm yourself up with a dance.”
Simon is rolling a cigarette. He wears a worn black jacket, grey hat and chequered scarf. He says that he used to be the pub landlord of another pub in town “I took no shit when I was there”, he says proudly as he lights his cigarette.
According to Simon, when he took the pub over it was struggling despite being well-known in the town. He recounts how he took the decision to “get karaoke back,”before adding “And then suddenly it upturned. You have to serve food or do karaoke [in Bolton]. If you do neither, you go bust.” Why? “Because people love to sing.” He goes on to explain how a friend of his now runs the pub, which still offers karaoke today.
Simon laments what he regards as a decline in the Bolton economy over the last few years: “Since Covid”,he says “Bolton is a ghost town. People have learnt to drink inside their own bubbles and they don’t come out”.On a normal Saturday before the pandemic, the town would have been much busier, he suggests, before putting his cigarette out on the raised ashtray and hurrying inside.
Below, with the sample size of 11 central Bolton pubs, we tested Simon’s hypothesis and found only one pub(s) with neither food nor karaoke on offer.
*This pub had a jukebox in frequent use and a selection of smaller food plates on offer
On Monday early evening, The Plough, a pub on the outskirts of the town centre, has 17 customers. In the spacious rectangular shaped seating area opposite the bar, a man with disc-jockeying duties for the evening is setting up a speaker system at the far end; the harsh high-pitched sound of feedback pierces the air at points. Without announcement, loud dance music and blue and red disco lights fill the entire room. Customers take no notice and continue as normal. Two couples play pool in the centre of the room. One man, wearing a flat cap and glasses with letters tattooed on his right knuckles, pots a red ball, and his opponent puts a friendly arm around him.
The DJ, still setting up the AV system, speaks into the microphone: “Hello and welcome to our first Monday Club – running all through December. Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday – from 6pm”.
The music is so loud that regular conversation is now inaudible; despite this, no one has broken from their activity, and the change in volume has passed without comment. The DJ, in his 30s, has neat black hair and possesses the well-versed voice of a radio presenter: “I’m also open to requests”he says, before listing the various people who have signed up to sing at tonight’s Monday Club. Of one in particular – presumably making this up for effect – he says the following: “She’s proper rough, she’s from Daubhill [pronounced Dobble].” A big sign behind the bar which overlooks the scene reads We Don’t Serve Dickheads.
Two screens facing the seating area, which otherwise show live sport, now show song lyrics. Elvis Presley’s 1960 hit song, Didja’ Ever,is the first song to play, performed smoothly by the DJ.
While still generally engrossed in the activities that were occupying them, some customers join in with the chorus. The man in the crimson polo shirt playing pool pots the black ball to win the game and he and his partner do a celebratory jig in time with the chorus before shaking hands with the other couple.
At the end of the song, the DJ announces that anyone who wants “twister shots” should ask Claire at the bar. He then introduces a variation on traditional karaoke called “Crafty-oke”, a slightly higher stakes version whereby, he says, “I choose the singer and the song. You don’t have to sing but if you do you get a free shot.”
Illustrative Statistics
These sorts of scenes were common, particularly on weekend evenings. Unlike with live football, where there was often a sizeable minority watching alone, those who came to watch karaoke or live musical performances in the evenings were nearly always in groups or couples. On the weekends karaoke was a highly social activity; it drew significant crowds and customers in pubs across Bolton were often heard discussing it.
The busiest pub observed in this period was The Crown pub on a Sunday evening.
At 18:35 pm there are 126 people, largely made up of couples over the age 60. They are gathered for a locally-famous weekly music night and an older man is singing classic dance hits. The customers are mostly heavily made up, wearing elaborate jewellery and evening wear. Many of the women are occupying the dance floor whilst the men remain near to the bar, mostly in shirts and jackets.
Two men in their mid 60s are speaking over the music. One wears an expensive shirt and blue linen jacket, he has grey hair which has been freshly combed, and drinks a pint of ale. The other has a half-leather and half-suede jacket and a tattoo on his right hand. They exchange collar measurements: “15 and-a-half [inch], me” says the grey-haired man.
Below is a list of the times and pubs that were most occupied during the week. As is clear, live music drew substantial crowds relative to other offerings put on by the pubs, especially on the weekends.
Busiest pubs by time of day and offering
Live music and karaoke, unlike any of the other leisure activities in Bolton pubs, drew a range of demographics. As in the conversation detailed above, in The Crown, 90% of the clientele were aged over 50. However, in another pub, the Breadmaker Arms, a permanent stage was set up in the middle of the bar for weekly performances. The entrance and interior space were adorned with flyers for upcoming gigs, and over the entire observation period there were no customers over the age of 40, out of around 30 people. Likewise, Smith’s and The Albert – both with frequent live performances and well-used jukeboxes – were substantially younger in terms of the general balance of their clientele, though not exclusively so.
There was also notable divergence when it came to gender, unlike gambling and football – activities that were skewed much more towards men, particularly those over 40 – the overwhelming popularity of karaoke and live music in Bolton transcended demographics.
Comparisons of karaoke types
The figures above give examples of karaoke and live music at its most popular. On Saturday and Friday nights, live music tended to be a flagship event, heavily advertised to bring customers in. More often however, karaoke was ‘rolling’ in that it frequently took place as a backdrop to the usual activity of the pub.
As with The Plough on Monday evening, described above, karaoke was most often performed in the background amid little or no interest. Most renditions were ignored by the majority of customers who tended to continue their usual activity as if no music was playing at all – with the exception of absent-mindedly joining in with the chorus of a particularly catchy song.
In some ways, it’s the presence of karaoke in these relatively low-key and routine settings that underscores its real popularity in Bolton. Many bars and pubs across the country offer karaoke and live music on a Saturday night – far fewer continue to offer it on a Monday evening on a weekly basis.
Karaoke at these times in Bolton is accepted as perfectly normal and unremarkable. It is treated like a pool table or a dartboard, a fixture of pub-life like any other. About as routine as replacing the barrels.
Gambling
In the Fox and Hounds pub, described in Chapter One, a man named Larry is drinking a vodka and coke. He wears a red polo shirt, jeans and leather work boots.
Larry has been playing the fruit-machine for the past 30 minutes and is on a winning streak. The machine’s cash pot reads £88, and Larry is able to withdraw up to that amount at any point. One customer, a man in his 50s, watches and comments on Larry’s game from a high stool at the bar:
“if you don’t get twenty quid off six pins it’s fucking bollocks”
“Anything’s fucking possible.”
Replies Larry without turning away from the machine. Another spin adds £10 to his total winnings.
“That’s not too bad, I suppose.”
At the same time, a bearded man who has been drinking in the corner, walks to the bar.
“Going in a minute.”
He announces to the room.
“Tell you what - I will have two of them [supermarket] strips.
He points to a paper sheet stuck to the wall advertising a weekly Sunday raffle – at £1 a strip – for the prize of a £50 [supermarket] voucher. He then exits the pub, saying goodbye softly.
Five minutes passes and Larry orders another vodka and coke, which fills three-quarters of a half-pint glass. The commentary from the bar continues:
“Carry on like that Larry you’re gonna need a fucking bankers draft”
“I just fucking auto play them.”
Larry replies, again without looking back.
“You’re not telling me you’ve got any idea on what’s a win line on that?”
“I ain’t got a fucking clue”.
A short-haired poodle is circling customers. Larry tells the dog to sit. The dog, whose owner is unclear, complies faithfully.
“Good boyyy”.
Larry then turns to Margaret behind the bar, asking for her input on his next move:
“Margaret, top, middle or bottom?”
“Bottom.”
She asserts, whilst pouring a pint of Fosters for another customer. Larry nods and selects the bottom rung. The machine rewards him with another £30 to the cash pot.
“30 quid! I’ll have that"
Larry’s streak has by now attracted the attention of the 11 people in the room, including Margaret. His cash pot is up to £129.
Still less than four minutes after ordering it, Larry finishes his vodka and coke in two large gulps. He subsequently chooses to withdraw £60 from the machine, which spits out three £20 notes. Looking over his shoulder as he does this, he then takes a blue vape from his pocket and replaces its cartridge. The machine’s cash pot now stands at £61.
Margaret notes, as she walks by to clear empty glasses, that Larry’s total has gone down.
“I’ve taken some out - that’s why”
he assures her.
Another man in his 50s enters the pub from the front door wearing jeans and a brown polo shirt:
“It’s quiet in here.”
He goes up to the bar, just behind Larry, and asks him if he wants a drink.
“No. Enough’s enough”
says Larry before mouthing “eight”and holding up his empty half-pint glass to indicate the number of drinks he has consumed.
“How long you been here?”
replies the man in jeans.
“An hour.”
At this point, Margaret re-enters the bar and asks Larry if he wants another, to which Larry, again, says no. Larry by now is down to £25 on the machine. He takes the remaining cash from the machine, saying:
“Right, I’m off.”
In total Larry leaves with £85 worth of winnings.
Types of gambling and punters
The prominence of gambling is hardly unique to Bolton, though still ubiquitous. Forms of gambling could be seen in every single pub at all times in the day; sports betting on phones, more traditional betting slips, community raffles, and (most visibly) fruit machines.
Fruit Machines
Unlike other offerings and leisure activities the demographics of gamblers were nearly entirely male. This was true across all forms of betting. Of the 40 people we observed on fruit machines across the study every single one was male. Those watching live racing, using betting slips were also entirely male, although less frequent in number and older on average. The exception was in the case of community gambling activities like raffles, which we observed a number of women participating in. An indication of the popularity of gambling is in the prevalence of fruit machines – in the 11 pubs observed there were 26 fruit machines in total, often in use. ‘Fruities’ as they are affectionately called, are often situated in highly prominent locations within the pub, impossible to miss or ignore.
It is difficult not to find yourself drawn to their repetitive jingles and flashing lights, and indeed, punters using the machines often do so with the attention of other customers. Whilst we observed a large number of punters on the machines the only person we saw winning was Larry – documented in this chapter.
Online Betting
It is difficult to accurately assess the extent of online gambling in the pub environment, although customers often spoke about bets they had made using mobile betting apps. Whilst the presence of betting shops and casinos in various locations in the town point to its popularity, the prevalence of gambling within the pub space shows that betting as an activity is intimately connected both to drinking and the collective viewing of live sport.
Chapter Three
Money & Work
I’m planning to retire 1st October next year.
Listen, I’ve been here years.
I threatened to quit last year.
A man and a woman sit on two high stools at the bar. He is dressed in jeans and a large jacket with sturdy working shoes. She wears black leggings and a puffer coat, which is open.
It is Tuesday mid-afternoon in The Albert, a prominently located pub in the town centre. Its proud history dates back to 1251 (although it was largely rebuilt in 1636), making it one of the oldest pubs in Britain. Most notably, during the English Civil War the Earl of Derby waited inside the pub – which was owned at the time by his family – for his eventual execution on its doorstep. The chair he sat on while awaiting his death is said to remain in the pub.
The sense of history the building possesses is apparent upon first glance. Its timber frame and slate roof immediately set it apart from any other building in the town centre. A medieval figure is painted above the entrance. To his left are canted bay windows on each storey, to his right a board with the inscription:
In this ancient hostelry James Stanley 7th Earl of Derby passed his last few hours of life previous to his execution Wed. 15th Oct. 1651
The bar is on the left upon entering. Immediately before it is a relatively large space with a dartboard and high stools. Beyond the bar is the cellar – the oldest part of the pub – and steps which lead up to the smoking area. Opposite the bar are two side rooms, both of which are tightly packed with tables and chairs.
Stone flooring and stooping wooden beams are present throughout. One of the side rooms has a piano, with chairs tucked in and music sheets neatly ordered on top. Every wall displays black and white framed pictures of Bolton, and numerous nods to the medieval history of the pub.
The Albert is not without modern touches. In one corner of the narrow passage between the front and the back of the bar is a fruit machine. In the back of the pub – where the much advertised live music takes place – is a mural of a man, with an accompanying guitar hanging above.
Fixation on money and the pension age
The man and woman sit in the front section of the bar near the pub’s entrance. At this time, the side rooms and the back of the bar are empty, with all customers clustered in this area. They continue to discuss his retirement package – a typical conversation in pubs across Bolton. For older drinkers, discussing when you were going to retire and how long you had left until then was as regular a talking point as football or music.
In this sense it was small talk, something that older people would think to ask about early on in a conversation. Despite the inherently personal nature, the subject was considered very much public, and it would not be strange for two people who had only just met to casually ask each other when they were retiring. Among groups of friends – we noticed this predominantly with men – this took on an almost competitive edge, as older men would compare retirement dates.
In The Fox and Hounds pub a group of men are sitting loosely watching the football. All three are in their mid 60s.
“Twenty-two months and I’m retired”
announces one man, Jonny, without invitation. He has a small frame with black hair, and wears a puffer jacket.
“I’m retiring on Friday,”
says one of the men in response, triumphantly. He wears a striped polo shirt.
The third of three men, Daryl, wears glasses and has grey hair. His voice is louder than his companions’ and comfortably carries throughout the pub. He responds in a surprised tone, asking
“How old are you?”
“I’m only 65 now.”
“Have you got money, then? Before your state pension?”
Jonny chimes in,
“I don’t get nothing for two years.”
“I won’t get a penny until next year. But me and Val, we’ve got enough”.
Says the man in the polo shirt, responding breezily, to Daryl’s earlier question.
“Brilliant,”
Daryl says, his voice booming through the pub.
“We don’t spend nothing,”
says the retiring man, referring to him and Val, his partner. Jonny interjects,
“They’ve agreed to do that triple lock now, that’s not 'till April though.”
The conversation took place a few days after the Government recommitted to the Triple Lock for the state pension.
“You’re 66 then?”
he asks.
“No, 65. I won’t get a penny till I’m 66.”
Both Jonny and Daryl appear slightly confused at the man in the polo’s decision to retire before he is eligible for his state pension as if his decision to stop working at 65 was uncommon.
“Why are you retiring then?”
“Because I’ve had enough.”
He lets out a large sigh with one hand gripping his pint glass on the table in front of him.
The men continue to discuss their respective pensions, taking enjoyment in speaking about the practicalities of drawing money out, as if bringing it closer to reality.
Jonny, still wearing his puffer jacket, offers some advice,
“Never defer your pension [on a monthly basis], if you die in the middle of the month they get two weeks [worth of money] back! That’s why I’m doing it weekly.”
Loosely swapping information and advice in this way was common to the pub. Older men would sit and make general conversation for hours at a time with their companion(s). Information is constantly traded – even if absent mindedly at times. This would typically include news about the community, mutual friends, family and acquaintances, football teams and financial advice such as how to manage spending in retirement.
Another, shorter conversation was taking place in The Plume of Feathers pub between two men of similar age, either side of retirement on a Monday evening. They drink Guinness and ale and discuss various topics to do with money, including their grandchildren, one of whom is going on holiday to Magaluf. The men agree that one of their mutual acquaintances is “a tight bastard.”
“All you pensioners are fucking killing us taxpayers”.
Says the younger of the two, clearly nearing retirement age himself. Discussing how they’ll spend their pension, the older of the two says
“Don’t feel guilty about giving it away to charity, they’re upping it [the age of eligibility] next year. No matter whether they’re Labour or Conservative they’re all the same, they’re all wankers.”
The man goes on to say that he would’ve been eligible for it in the past
“but now I’ve got to wait till I’m 66 in six months. In France they’re burning buildings because they’re making them work till 64.”
His friend agrees.
“They’re not gonna give you nothing.”
He then airs a long-standing grievance he has with the decision that the Thatcher Government took to cut the overseas allowance for some service people.
“In 82, after the Falklands War when they all came back on the ships waving and all that… You know what Thatcher did the next day? She cut the allowance for all service people that were abroad.”
He says he was in the army overseas in 1982 at the time:
“I was getting £50 a week down to £15.
Ending by calling Thatcher
"a fucking twat".
Older men in Bolton were fixated on the date on their retirement date, as well as the amount of money they would have for retirement. They saw those who were retiring before the age in which they were able to draw a state pension (66) as being evidence of above average wealth. Their keen interest in this subject meant that people had read up on the details of the state pension and policies such as the triple-lock were well known and mattered greatly here.
Interestingly, while taxpayers would occasionally make jokes about how generous the pension system was, and how they were jealous of their older peers who would shortly be benefiting from it, there was no sense of luck or privilege among the older generations. In their eyes they had worked incredibly hard in their career and the current state pension offering was the minimum they expected. Even those who were aware of the recommittal to the Triple Lock, though relieved, gave no credit to the Government for this.
Disposable Income
The majority of people observed in these settings could be described as affluent working-class or lower-middle class. Largely, this refers to people in full time employment with a little disposable income, i.e. enough for meals out and drinks and leisure activities like gambling, or tickets for sporting events, and trips away.
A number of customers were overheard discussing recent or planned holidays as well as plans for Christmas, including gifts they planned on purchasing for loved ones. One man, for example, was overheard telling a story in The Fox and Hounds about a recent holiday to Bulgaria during which he was the victim of a theft. Another was heard in The Albert describing his usual approach to buying Christmas and birthday gifts.
“I drove to [a football ground] the other day [to buy a football shirt for my grandson]. Em is a brainiac. She says ‘get me a book grandad…something like Elf on the Shelf’ so I went to Waterstones.”
The woman he is with – a friend – asks him what he gets his daughter.
“I don’t go mad on Christmas. I get my daughters and daughter-in-law the same every year: £50 Primark vouchers. Then they can get what they want, they can get knick knacks. And then the kits come to about £50 so it’s about the same for everyone. I make a fuss over them all on their birthdays, Chanel No.5, stuff like that. That’s how much I usually spend on birthdays.”
He concludes.
At The Plume of Feathers couples were often seen enjoying meals together, occasionally with other couples, drinking wine and beer. Many pubs established community initiatives, implying that customers could spare some of their income for charitable causes. For example in The Plough, the local DJ introduced in Chapter 2, informed the customers over the AV system that the pub was taking donations (via ‘Santa’s Sack’) for Bolton Homeless, the pub’s chosen charity in the lead up to Christmas. Mark, the bus driver, mentioned having given a homeless man £20: “what got us was his dog”.
It was clear there was a level of disposable income characteristic of working class people in employment or on a state pension with minimal outgoings. This is not to say everyone fell into this bracket. There were those in the Bolton area who had more obvious struggles with money, although they were far less likely to frequent the pub. When they did, it was usually pubs with notably less affluent clientele such as The Plough.
Cash
The importance of cash to this community was obvious. Most payments for alcohol still came via cash, and the infrastructure of paper money remained hugely important, particularly for older generations. One barman in The White Horse could for example be heard complaining about the rise of cashless payments:
“Going cashless means you need to have the funds to do it. It makes it really hard. I can do cash-back over Christmas but in general I need cash in the till. If you’re a business and you’re two days behind - I’ve still gotta pay my man - you can’t come in and pay tomorrow.”
Equally, the overreliance on cashless payments in his view led to greater inaccessibility. He complained for example about the early closure of the Post Office in town making it harder “for old girls trying to get their pension”. The early closure of high street banks was seen as evidence of a general sense that people like them were being ignored, forgotten or left behind. A feeling that has exacerbated since the pandemic. The man in conversation with the barman said,
“and the bank’s closed. Mine shuts at four o’clock now. All banks used to be open at half-past five. Now they shut and then they blame Covid. They’re all working less hours for the same pay.”
The concept of a cashless society was viewed with deep distrust by the older generations, as well as one in which everything was online. The idea that people would soon no longer have the option to use cash or go into a physical shop was seen as more evidence of the consumer, or the ‘little guy’, being screwed over.
The pub and employment
Pubgoers were often heard discussing the world of work. They commonly traded stories or anecdotes about recent shifts or experiences of employment. In one pub, a young delivery driver spoke to his companions about his new job driving for a local firm: “Dave got me the job”.He tells the others about the route he takes in Bolton and the surrounding areas. He says he enjoys the role and others chime in with views about the world of work. Speaking about van men, for example: “That’s all they know”,one says. The driver agrees, referencing his own family: “My dad’s left school at 16 and been a butcher for 40 years, that’s all he’s known.”
Many conversations happened immediately after shifts had finished. Customers engaged in a ritual of having a well-earned pint straight from work. Mark, from Chapter One, for example, came directly from shift of bus driving. He sipped his pint with a sense of great relief. His shift, he tells Gavin, started very early and was very long. Although he adds, warily,
“I’m on a nightmare next week though, I’m on the last bus - fucking nightmare.”
Despite the unsociable hours, Mark tells Gavin that he likes his job, having only recently moved to his current employer from another bus company in and around Manchester. The only thing he dislikes about it, he says, is the problem with providing change out of his own pocket:
“Drivers of all the buses all have to have £50 in change, they always say when you start out each day. And it’s your money. Over the year you do get it back.”
Although this is a bit of a hassle, Mark says
“It’s still a good company to work for. I used to work in Manchester but it got a bit cheap, so I moved here. And I love it here. I do love it here. Nice just to fucking finish though. Lovely just to finish.”
This post-work pint ritual could be observed throughout the afternoon and evening on weekdays in nearly all pubs in Bolton, demonstrating the importance of the pub as a counterpoint to employment and as a space to unwind before returning home.