LANDLORD: Morning, squire, what can I do for you?
CLAMP: Is this the Nag's Head?
LANDLORD: That's right, boss.
CLAMP: And are you Mr Garrold Cripps?
LANDLORD: That's me indeed, proud proprietor of the finest pub in town.
CLAMP: Then, Mr Cripps, on behalf of Clamp, Cramp and Bejesus, solicitors, I am here to serve you.
LANDLORD: No, no, *I* serve *you*. You never been in a pub, son?
CLAMP: I am here to serve a cease and desist notice.
LANDLORD: Ah, I'm not very good on cocktails.
CLAMP: A cease and desist notice is a legal document that enshrines the requirement for you to stop doing something - in this instance, showing football on that large screen.
LANDLORD: But I'm all paid up on my Sky contract. I can get you the receipts if you want.
CLAMP: No, I'm afraid the fact that money has changed hands is immaterial. My client, the landlord of the Twig & Dachshund in Altringham, has exclusive rights to the broadcast of sporting endeavours as outsized projections.
LANDLORD: How come?
CLAMP: Because said hostelry is the home of big screen sports. They have a sign that says so.
LANDLORD: And that gives them legal rights, does it?
CLAMP: I would say so. Do you have a sign, Mr Cripps?
LANDLORD: No, but-
CLAMP: Then you cannot be the home of big screen sports. Therefore, if you continue to keep big screen sports here, where we agree is not its home, you will be guilty of, at best, copyright infringement, at worst, kidnapping.
LANDLORD: Alright. Can we be the home of medium sized screen sports?
CLAMP: I'm afraid the King Harold of Nottingham has secured that honour.
LANDLORD: Smallish screen sports?
CLAMP: The Alderman's Arms of Towcester, I'm afraid.
LANDLORD: Radio 5 up loud?
CLAMP: The Dram O' Friendship in rural Aberdeenshire has taken that right - pity, as they can't get Five Live there. Perhaps it's a tax dodge. Or a joke.
LANDLORD: So, what am I supposed to do?
CLAMP: I suggest you put up a sign to show you're home of something else, pretty swiftly, otherwise you'll not be able to do anything in this public house.
LANDLORD: Home of fruit machines?
CLAMP: Gone.
LANDLORD: Home of crisps?
CLAMP: Too late.
LANDLORD: Backgammon?
CLAMP: Nope.
LANDLORD: Home of men reminiscing about wars they weren't in?
CLAMP: Nice try, but no.
LANDLORD: How about The Nag'sHead, home of late night car park argy-bargy?
CLAMP: Dagenham's The Glottal Stop has had that right for some years, I regret.
LANDLORD: Right. Look, why don't you check your list, and tell me if there's anything left we can be the home of, before I shut the doors forever?
CLAMP: You could always be the home of lager, Mr Cripps.
LANDLORD: What good's that? Nobody comes to the pub for the Carling! It's about 20p a pint in Morrison's.
CLAMP: Yes. And it tastes like shit.
LANDLORD: That is definitely the truth, and not a matter of opinion - you should know, you're a lawyer.
CLAMP: Yes.
LANDLORD: Hang about - can this pub be the home of complaining about how supermarkets are killing old-fashioned pubs, and how crap beer is nowadays, and what actually is a craft keg, anyway, whilst we're on the subject?
CLAMP: Erm...yes, that one's available. Although, I must admit, I thought there'd we'd end up with something better.
LANDLORD: Yeah, me too...me too...