Quote "The Spiffy Dapper started off as a hole in the wall in Boat Quay. Nothing special, just good banter and half decent drinks.
As a matter of fact, it is a surprise that anyone bothered to climb up the smelly stairs and drink in that shit-hole.
Anyways, after a year of dodgy operations, their customers decided to give them money to move to a slightly bigger space in Amoy Street.
But not having any scruples, they took the money and spent it on useless expensive machines which they are not sure how to use.
So here they are, still doing the same ol' half-decent drinks and in a larger and cleaner venue.
They apologize for the lack of rodents, roaches and weird smells. But they have kept the main attractions for you buggers.
George is always drunk and chasing customers away, and the new recruits are no better at customer service than Gorilla's with butt-plugs swimming in the Indian Ocean.
The more things change, the more they stay the same."
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Over the last 8 years (yes, it has been that bloody long), many bars have come and gone. Yet, we never felt that any of them could touch our abilities in providing consistent mediocrity. To this day, we have upheld our standards of providing lackadaisical half-turned smiles with every drink served. We have destroyed countless souls with our dark interiors and funeral music.
But things are different now. Recent developments have made us question our status in the world of crappy cocktail bars.
So we had to get off our lazy bottoms and do something about it. Instead of working very hard, we (George) decided to steal.
That's right. Not only are we culturally appropriating the 1920s from erstwhile geniuses, we have decided to plagiarise its artwork as well.
Well George, (Yes, that George who built the Spiffy Crapper, yes that sorry excuse of a man who you never see at the venue anymore as he has been deported to Johor) has painstakingly removed all the branding from old advertisement posters without giving due credit to their deserving creators. To add insult to injury, we have ripped off slangs from the 1920s to name our mediocre cocktails as well.
Let this menu prove once and for all that George's conscience is more shrunken than the dried bonobo gonads hanging in front of the smoky jalopy George drives around in Johor.
4 years ago, even though we were culturally appropriating the west and its people, we at least had a white face to front it (even if he was a cut rate version from Soviet Russia). Now, all you get are regular Singaporeans and Malaysians with post-colonial fever and a dash of Filipinos thrown in for flavour.
We want to let everyone know that we have not dropped our low standards.
Our fight will go on. We will never give up the mantle of being the worst bar in Singapore.
Go check it out, the above gives you a sense of the humour and very ,much relaxed vibe here. Open in the day for coffee and snacks, morphing into a bar by eve/night.
Regular visitors so it can't be that bad right? ;-)
