Went to The Draft House pub in Hammersmith (W6 7NL) yesterday with a mate. No sooner had we found a good space in the beer garden, than a floppy-haired tattoo-sleeve-wearing barman flounced over with a vintage clipboard and antique paper menu with brews bearing such names as “Aprigot [not a spelling mistake] Sour Apricot”. Before we could get over the strange unpubiness of all this, we were asked if we would like pints, halves, two-thirds of a pint, or one third of a pint.
What on earth?
Being married to a Spaniard, I’m used to the concept of tiny, shot-like glasses of beer: the caña, the zurito. But I’d never seen it in England. However, I think the concept will catch on; there’s a real niche for smaller-than-pint sizes of beer.
But will the name “two thirds of a pint” catch on? Unlikely.
I unilaterally dubbed this measure, the “two’th” or “tooth” — as in “two th[irds of a pint]”. A much catchier alternative. So we spent all night ordering “tooths”, and we spent all night not being understood. We feigned confusion: ‘You know: tooths. It’s what we call two-thirds-of-a-pint round my manor, guv’.
One third is known as a “one-fer” (‘one thir[d]’ in a London accent) or a “toothless”.
Go to a pub and order some “tooths” today! Free fun!
© 2015 Bryan A. J. Parry