"Oh no," he said, "there's no wifi in here; people used to sit talking in pubs about their day, their families, work, politics, music, the lot - now people just stare at their phones and it breaks my heart to see; therefore, no wifi in this pub."
"You know what?" I replied, "You're right!" and I put my phone away.
"Thank you," the landlord said, "In this pub I want you to act as you would thirty or forty years ago."
So I lit a cigarette, gave him £1 for the pint and said, "No fucking problem mate."
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