An 'artist's' take on what could have happened had the delivery been accepted.
Delivery work can be tough. Fearing repo men or the religious, most people don’t welcome knocks on their doors from strangers, and the ranks of mail carriers are filled with psychopaths driven to it by a combination of bad handwriting and the Zip Code system. So, there it is, sympathy expressed for the challenges of delivery work. Nonetheless, the person responsible for the following blunder still has to put on the pointed dunce cap and sit in the corner (a practice sadly abandoned by all but the very best schools).
The unnamed (a kindness) delivery company received an order for 12 barrels of lager - that’s 2,000 pints for those of you shouting at your monitors that we were off in the headline - to be delivered to Windsor Castle, a pub in Maidenhead, a town about five miles away from the royal digs. Somehow, the delivery guys missed both the address and the word “pub”, following Windsor Castle.
They showed up with the beer haul at the gates of Windsor Castle, but were told that the beer, which could have made for one jubilant jubilee indeed, had not been ordered by Good Queen Bess, and that Prince Philip damned their eyes for having the bloody nerve (In the interest of the historical record, we made that second part up).
The pub-owner, who had been expecting the booze to arrive for England’s football match with Croatia, was concerned that the order wouldn’t arrive before he received a call from an officer who had a confused delivery driver with him.
“I couldn’t believe it. I honestly thought it was a hoax but the officer insisted he was genuine and wanted confirmation that we were expecting a delivery,” he said. “We have received mail for the royal household here before but I think this is the first time they have received anything meant for us.”
As for the Queen, she was amused, well her spokesman at Windsor Castle was: “It was very funny. But there’s no way the Queen sits down in the evening with a pint.” It should be noted that she prefers a wee nip of whiskey in the evenings, as do her alcoholic corgis, whose exploits we chronicled in The Man Who Scared a Shark to Death: And Other True Tales of Drunken Debauchery.