Let’s try 'em by turns and see which we prefer!
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That appears to be a sound idea. What an interesting evening!
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What in the buggering fuck (I can do that here, can’t I?) is an oyster house, other than a shell? Or do you mean like ‘chop house’? In which case, bah!
Anyway, gah! And Pimms is filfy stuff wot leads decent drinkers astray. It needs Number One Shunning, it does,
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Snork, Gus !
Anyhoo
Wot about that poor HedgeSparrer in the Drinky Desert that is Birmingham ?
We should send Booze Parcels, surely…
Carinthia.xx
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An oyster house was indeed a caff, selling food even cheaper than chops; oysters were for the poor in 1830.
Pimm, a farmer from Norfolk or somewhere, bought an oyster bar in the City of London and sold his Number 1 Cup there as a “tonic”. It had quinine in it, which as we all know is the universal panacea.
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sigh. I know. just wanted to get the deeply unfunny shell joke in. In the hope of amusing more I just vaguely reference carrot and oyster pie a la Ogg.
Pimm should have been driven back to Norfolk with whips (no, not Angel Delight or budget equivalents) and scorpions (we are always on the lookout for stingy, tetchy and potentially lethal talent so please visit our website and apply). In the Norfolk rainy season.
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.I don’t believe you have the equipment, Gus, except as a recipient and/or are enjoying mechanical aids. No, not aides or AIDS.
Oyster houses were very popular with relatively downmarket theatre goers in the early mid C19: one in the Strand is mentioned by Trollope in ‘The Warden’. I don’t know about a digestive aid, with the lack of refrigeration or hygiene at that time, I imagine the oysters could have served themselves without any need for a waiter. However, the Revd Septimus Harding in his innocence wandered into the establishment referred to, asked for and got a mutton chop, which had to be bought in if I recall correctly. I do believe Pimm’s Oyster Houses survived a considerable time.
I find half a dozen fresh oysters, with a couple of drops of Green Tabasco, an excellent prelude to a lobster (try the excellent West Beach Restaurant in Bournemouth, recommended by the late A A Gill). Or years ago upstairs in Byrne’s in Dublin, a dozen with soda bread and bottled Guinness. Many of Pimm’s customers drank champers or other fizz with their oysters. I believe he was trying something more subtle. It certainly caught on, what?
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It’s a good job we don’t talk about the Grundies or the Fairbrothers here, after all if Pimm could do it…
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Oh lord. Which are you on now, lemonade or ginger ale? I have tried both and can’t quite make up my mind.
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Let’s mix 'em and see what happens… Any oysters?
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Answer, dere Aisling, came there none.
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I was once force fed an oyster in a restaurant by Lake Trasimeno
I was Very Surprised to say the least…
Lobster though
Now you’re talking…
Carinthia.xx
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There are pleasant ways of being Very Surprised, dear heart…(or indeed reprised) 
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The Late Mr C’s face was a picture when this ageing Italian, who was squiring an Young Lady came over & fed me 1 of the18 oysters he had ordered for them
He looked at me & said ‘don’t you dare be sick’…
I wasn’t…
Carinthia.xx
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A real triumph of mind over matter, that was.
Have you tried the Pimm’s, dear heart?
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It was indeed…
I do like good quality Ginger Ale, I must say
Carinthia.xx
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Oh yes. Oyster pie has just come to mind as being in the canon of Cockney grub. (“Grubs is extra, dear.”) There has to be a PhD or two in making pie charts about shellfish-rested deaths in East London, c.1840.
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There we are, Carinthia has solved the riddle, resolved the paradox and has the power to charm ageing but rich Italian Lotharios.
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In that case I think we should all have more Sixers with Ginger Ale before bed. And I must go to bed shortly because I am tired, me.
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I’ll drink to that! 
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