BRAPA is on a .... BLACKBURNLEY JOURNEY / POORLY IN CHORLEY?

Saturday 31st January 2026

Another three points on the road for the mighty Tigers, where I was again able to combine football with four useful pub ticks thanks to the chauffeuring efforts of Blackburn's finest, Ian 'BeyondThePale' Sutton.

Not bad considering we've been playing the same boring Championship teams for five billion consecutive seasons.

I've had plenty of trips out with Ian in recent years, but this is Daddy BRAPA's first time meeting him. Just after 10am at Burnley Manchester Road (sorry Ian, B*****y), he whizzed off to a hilly chilly Colne for a 'Spoons I really should've done by now, but is in and out of the GBG like a washer woman's drawers ......

There should've been at least one Titanic beer on because Wallace Hartley, Colne (3244 / 6085) is named after a guy who went down with the ship, whilst playing the violin to keep the passengers entertained mid-drown. This is a strong 'Spoons, a grand building full of wood panelled walls and during a joint Everitt toilet trip, we're like "by gum, this building used to be something" but I'm surprised to read that it was originally built in the 1920's as just a bloody pub. Boring! Although in the 60's, it became a Greek restaurant around the time that the Greek's invented gayness. The ale is a devil themed drop by Kirkby Lonsdale which really stabs you in the back of the throat in the final third. Burny! McBurnie, if you like (thanks).

8.5/10 for the carpet / tiling mix

"He dives to the left, he dives to the right, Ivor Panda, ticks six pubs a night!

It's a long old drive to the town which holds pubs two and three, so far west that I don't think we're even in East Lancs anymore which obviously is deeply disappointing.

Pa BRAPA admits to feeling below par, tummy troubles not helped by sitting in the back of a car which he never normally does (even though I offered him the front seat). He did perk up twice in Ewood Park, once when he had his scotch egg and once when we scored!

Chorley's a cracking pub town, though its contradictory attitude towards pubby visitors always confuses me, bemoaning the influx of away fans travelling to a host of NW grounds, whilst simultaneously advertising itself as a real ale hot spot with 'Chorley real ale crawl' leaflets liberally sprinkled about the town.

And for the first time, I feel Chorley's insistence on putting any new real ale outlet in the GBG was a step too far at Ronnie's Bar, Chorley (3245 / 6086) which is something and nothing. Gloomy welcome, two Wily Fox ales on. I opt for the Irish stout which tastes like whisky flavoured sick unless you nip your nose, minimal heating, minimal comfort, minimal decor with just a random Shepherd Neame sign of any note, unless you count the Peter Kay poster outside the loo. 'Micropubs, what were all that about then?' Yup, I thought Micropubs like this were a thing of the past and since Covid, folk opening them had woken up to the fact that punters want warmth, softer furnishings and a bit more effort made. Bah humbug.

"Ian, Ian give us a green"

My other Chorley newbie didn't open until 1pm, and as we loiter in the icy wind at five past, we're told by a cold man with a pushchair that they're still not quite ready.

A lovely lady rattles a key in the door and admits that whilst social media hours say 1pm, it should be 1:30pm in reality, so I guess we have to be grateful to her for rushing around like a flappy 'eadless chicken for a good few mins to get us served ASAP. Baaa 38, Chorley (3246 / 6087) is much more like it, a reminder of the Chorley I normally love. Warmth, cosy, good depth and a relatively interesting interior. Pint of the day so far, Rivington. Do all their pales taste the same? I couldn't comment. I got into them through a chilli stout during Lockdown II, named something like 'Never Mind the Radiators' but not that! The bannister (not Bruce) to the upstairs gents is still sticky from a recent varnish and I got stuck to it twice and found myself danglin' which was momentarily fun. Only remembered to take one photo because presumably Bernard and Ian were the source of such entertainment.

'One photo, you've only got one photo'

Ian, the gent that is, practically drops us on the centre circle at Ewood Park. He is a Rovers fan, but isn't going today for shitness / Venky related reasons, but he's picking me up after the game for one more tick #Legend

The game is a turgid, wet, sloppy affair. A hard watch. We are second best for long spells. But hang on in there, and take our one real chance with eight minutes to go. Picking up points when you're playing badly (as we did at home to Watford on Tuesday), dare I say it that's how you go up! Losing at home to Brizzle Titties tomorrow aren't we?

Dad decides to walk back to Blackburn station for the next direct York train home, but being the lovely father that he is, despite not being 100% well, he stands with me in the pouring rain to wait for Ian to pick me up, who is delayed because they'd closed the Darwen road post match.

I apologise for winning (we can't help it) and off we set to wettest darkest East Lancs for my fourth and final tick of the night. Another micro, and with hours so mean, no way we could've done it pre-match.

'Like walking into someone's front room' (if people lived in ok Micropubs), my abiding memory will be of a very smiley greeting at Whitewell, Waterfoot (3247 / 6088) and even when the locals peer through the gloom and realise we aren't known to them, the smiling continues. And that is why East Lancs is one my fave UK places for people. Ian's half is actually served in a pint glass which is unusual. A Serious glass. By which I mean the brewery 'Serious' who'd I'd never heard of but Ian was hoping to see their beers, but none were on. Cracking porter though from Rossendale, I tell Ian my recent haggis anecdote, and that's all that happened!

I'm probably talking about haggis at this exact moment, hence Ian's worried eyes

There's a late 'curve-ball' as Daddy BRAPA texts me, his train is fine apart from being full of Hull dickheads, but mine is cancelled! Nooooooo.

An hour pubbing in a soggy Burnley? There's worse ways to spend a Saturday evening I guess!

Time for two revisits. First up New Brew-m which lacks the magic of my debut here a couple of years back. But deathly cheap Reedley Hallows. The lack of any seat due to fat arses and a few old locals who weren't as friendly as the norm, so I neck my pint from a pillar.

And then an 'old favourite' ..... well, never 'favourite' but always decent circa 2010 when Ministry of Ale wasn't open and Robbie Brady scored in the snow. Don't think it ever made the GBG, but Inn on the Wharf has reopened after a lengthy closure. All the cask has disappeared, and it was bloody weird, cos there's the odd old couple and families with little kids knocking about, but 70% of it is jolly lads snorting cocaine in the gents and women in boob tubes. The Salt Alpacalypse drank weirdly, and my headgear which had been praised twice by a drunk woman in New Brew-m, was given weird looks here! Then Rosenior was smug on a plasma cos Chelsea fluked a win v the 'ammers.

The train home was hideous even at that late hour. First some Hull City idiots kept throwing onion rings at the ticket guard even though they were about 60 years old. I moved carriages after I'd had a wee, but that was even worse cos some teen shitbags between L**ds n York started trying to be intimidating!

But on the whole, another successful day and look at this? I'm fully caught up on my blog as I write this on Wednesday night.

The problem is, I'll have done some Notts ticks by the time I release this on Friday. And then I'll be out on Saturday so by Sunday, I'll be two blogs behind again, grrr,

Keep it pub! Si