In a rarely seen example of Pubcat enthusiasm, O'Malley loyally choses to snooze in the warm orange shade of a Holland shirt.
The number of shrimp you have is inversely proportional to your distance from the Pubcat.
The light is soft, the atmosphere relaxed, next thing you know you're passed out on the table.
After a long hike you need a pint and a Pubcat winding therapeutically around your aching legs.
It's classic pubcat disapproval – maybe you have had too many, maybe it is time to go home.
If your name's not down you're not coming in. Metal head's are a bunch of softies really, they've got a Pubcat on the door.
After chucking out time the real clean up can begin.
Strictly VIP, no riffraff.
You want to reach out and tickle them, you know you shouldn't, but look how tempting they are!
Tony's playing it cool, but the window spot is perfect for sunbathing and showing off to passing strangers – he wants you to stop and admire his handsome coat and maybe pop in for a pint.