Don't leave too late or you'll miss your train and then get Hippy Slapped!

Hippy Slapped? I don't like the sound of that, being beaten with flowers.

Flowers? I thought it was supposed to use Tom C's hair.

Words can only begin to explain just how much I am looking forward to attending and not only consuming some fine, fine, fine, fine, beer, but also consuming the conversation, and, dare I say it, physical presence, of all of you lovely, loving people.

Intoxication may, and probably June, July, and will ensue and although the physical health benefits could find themselves represented somewhere on a scale between minute, non-existent, and hey-look-at-this-whole-big-negative-side-to-the-scale, the social benefits will possibly, nay, almost certainly, be ever so marginally slightly more positive. And that is a delightful prospect.

I say "screw you hard, Silicon Valley" because the Amber Valley that is the Bricklayer's Arms is our one, true spiritual home and I will join you all, I'm sure, in literal awe of its splendour.

I... love you, Pub Standards.

Epic cold virus fail. I've going to go home and drink something that is both hot and compatible with drugs. That way I won't infect all of you.

I have a tear in my eye after ptg's monologue. I feel a need to pledge allegiance to the Pub Standard flag.

Do we have a flag?

Had a wonderful time. Thanks much for organizing!