While doing a little research on 'The Cricketers Arms', I found this morsel of juicy information. Not so juicy to me as the bloke who… 'had an accident, went out, banged his head on the pavement and died' once again didn't show up while we were inside.
This happened in the late 1950’s or 1960’s. Very vague information but the full scoop (if that’s what you call it), can be found here. It's another ghost... woooooo!!!!
The ex-landlord claims to have seen this local spook on several occasions, the local pisshead who wants a free beer?
Flanked by a derelict factory and broken-down house, what chance did the ‘The Cricketers Arms’, have of surviving in this modern world where only the hardiest of shrivelled-up drinkers now frequent the pub to just 'drink'?
We also explored the over-bearing factory, but as it was empty apart from copious bird shit I felt it was unworthy of a write-up.
Once the workers would have spilled out into the pub, but those heady days of northern industry died years, or decades ago.
This report says it is being destroyed, and some supermarket will be built in its place. That's another historic building from 1840 or so, gone.
The image (within the link) looks like the top half is gone and the factory is also going. It's probably a little late for a visit if you are reading this article for that reason.
...'getting a decent image of this is impossible. It looks like shit from every angle'...
We had been everywhere, front, and back, checked the windows and there was no way inside. What the fuck?, this was supposed to be an easy one and I was figuring the back door should have been open.
Resigned to failure, we were about to leave when 
Within minutes, we found ourselves crouching through a dark tunnel and emerging within the cellars which I fully expected to be six inches in water or worse.. shit.
An underground bar, or just a place to tip all the unwanted crap.
Hobgoblin glasses: I can't drink that beer, it tastes decent but makes me feel like shit, maybe it's made from Hobgoblin intestines mixed with turds?
The house part of ‘The Cricketers Arms’ contained the usual features of being ransacked. Maybe others had gained the same lightbulb idea to gain entrance.
Digital images of other pubs, the competition, or did the collector have some kind of fetish?
A darts trophy from 1999 that belonged to J. Mitchell. Was this thrower of 180s a regular?
‘Pay Council Tax’ was what struck me about this. There are still citizens who don’t use the direct debit method? I do abstain from many bills, but not this one.
Most abandoned pubs are quite sparse, but this one was more like a Time Capsule, one from only last year if the reports of a 2022 closure ring true.
Dammit, no TV to watch while slobbed out on the comfortable leather recliners.
‘Snells Principles of Equity’, is heavy-going and not something I am ever going to read.
Nor the rest of these ancient relics, which look like they were produced around seventy years ago. I thought this was a pub, not a law library.
Extremely dusty, but probably still works if switched on.
The ex-landlord and siblings might have pissed off, but they left a lot of stuff behind. These are very personal.
The stairs I remember were a little ropey despite being furnished with Grandma’s finest carpet design.
'John is not drinking tea'. It's quite clear that he prefers bleach or turpentine. Add a teaspoon of sugar, and that’s a great way to clear out your inner tubes.
Empty boxes, wrappers, what untidy bastards you all were.
‘Ferrous Gluconate’ is used to treat Iron deficiency, and 'Omeprazole' I take myself to stop acid reflux. All very dull, I was hoping for a full box of Valium or Temazepam.
Oh, someone has been a bad boy. That’s a ‘real’ ticket and not paying can get you into hot water.
It's back to the ancient photographs of the competing pubs. In those days, there was one on every corner street, and people wondered why they died at the age of 45.
I love the bathroom décor. Green seems to fit well, shame about the floor that looked like it contained some murky body juices and used rubbers.
Finally, we managed to get to the bar, though it resembled a café more than a drinking establishment.
What’s written on the board makes little sense to me. Was this some peculiar method of getting business through the front door?
I hope that’s not dried runny shit attached to the sugar bag. With what’s directly behind it can’t be counted out.
…’and I was praising that green tiled bathroom, at least the gleaming walls part’…
While the 'Hopper' idea is novel, I can't see it being particularly practical. Your freshly poured two pints of beer are not going to be very peaky the day after unless you like drinking stale piss-swill.
The prices are not cheap, but what would you expect from a pub that looks like a designer café? The idea didn't work out so well. The surrounding external buildings do not exactly add to the ambience.
‘Worth Brewery’ – the locals no longer think it’s worth coming, or else it would still be open.
We vacated via our newly found underground tunnel covering up the evidence well. This pub was in better condition than most, and we wanted it to stay that way.
As for the 'ghost of the pisshead with the banged head', until today I didn't know he existed. Maybe he never did; I am still not convinced.
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