Flossie Lane was reputed to be Britain's oldest pub landlord and her Herefordshire hostelry was certainly one of the country's more unusual establishments. The Sun Inn at Leintwardine was one of Britain's last remaining parlour pubs where drink was served in what was effectively Flossie's own front room. Born in the pub in 1914 she took the licence over in the 1930s and remained in charge until her death. The licence only permitted her to sell beer, so no spirits were available, although she did agree to sell wine in her later years to reflect the changing taste of her clients. Jeremy Paxman once described the pub as his discovery of the year. "Flossie, the landlady, sits in the middle of the room, wearing a pair of surgical stockings. The only food is a pot of eggs, which Flossie pickled several moons ago." Flossie, who suffered from agoraphobia, was never known to have left the pub throughout her time there. She was also teetotal.
Among others who died in June were pop superstar and eternal child, Michael Jackson
This is the way obits should be done: I'd much rather read about the death of an agoraphobic pub landlady or a bloke off of the Navy Lark than Jacko who, it must be said, had kind of been quite well-known throughout his life and therefore whose obituary didn't really say much that anyone who was interested didn't already know.
Certainly not enough to merit an 8-page pull-out in the paper of record, anyways.
I'm slightly worried that what with the pull-outs, TV tributes, concerts, Newsnight specials and everything, that Jacko is not 9/11 but rather Pearl Harbor to Diana Spencer's Dunkirk. If we're not careful we could be witnessing the birth of a new Allied Power that declares all-out schmaltzkrieg on reality itself. If Jacko gets canonised I'm leaving this fucking continuum quicker than you can say 'Wesley Crusher'.
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