I stopped by Barclay’s yesterday afternoon for my Holiday Celebration Pre-Toddler Bracer Duo of Imperial pints, when I noticed something- the place is teeming with alchies. The bartender was hammered, literally stumbling and giving folks the wrong beer and grabbing the waitresses’ asses and flying the eyelids half-mast at best. When I noticed the waitress nipping at a half-pint I mentioned that she had that “I need to get the fuck out of here look,” and she replied, “I’ve been sipping these things since 11. I’ve lost count.” It was four o’clock in the afternoon. The guy next to me said he was taking a break from painting houses and was doing a couple of 11 percenters while showing off pictures of his baby girl on his cell, bragging about the 40 beers he and his wife consumed on Valentine’s Day and then showing the bar pictures of said wife breastfeeding the newborn, while bellowing, “Her tits are bigger than the baby’s head,” to which the bespectacled, bearded and long-haired curmudgeon next to him responded, “Fuck babies.” Harry was diddling with a laptop, showing everybody a picture of a giant shark ready to devour an unsuspecting kayaker and cackling with sadistic Aussie glee. I believe the man in the kayak was an Abo. I finished my pint and headed for the door. Nobody noticed.