Oohhh, Ladyboys!

A couple Sundays ago I was at a favorite watering hole in Soho by the name of Puck Fair. It has an extremely long bar, a delightful selection of ales on tap, and some rather tasty bartenders from time to time. On this particular afternoon there was an feeling of celebration in the air—the sun was shining, a few mates were visiting from Hartford, and it was literally my birthday. After a few lovely pints of Smithwicks we decided it was time to up the ante, so I ordered the only thing I know how to when “going nuclear” at a bar: ladyboys. For the uninitiated, a “ladyboy” consists of a pint of lager, a small Baileys Irish Cream, and a gin and tonic consumed in equal measures until they’re all gone. Exhibit A: on the left, my son.

There are a couple basic problems that arise when ordering ladyboys: 1) No one knows what they are, but I always try asking for one with no explanation just in case. 2) Sometimes—and this was certainly the case on Sunday at 2PM—bartenders are wary about serving one person three drinks at the same time. (Apparently it is “illegal”?) Anyway, we ran into both of these problems, but managed to overcome them through textbook communication and compromise.

If you’re interested in moving beyond the standard Jaeger bombs, car bombs, and boilermakers, try calling for a ladyboy during your next session, and watch this classic Alan Partridge clip to understand the genesis of a truly disgusting drink: