The Pig & Trebuchet

Gack&Bacon Ltd is one of the oldest breweries in the United Kingdom, and The Pig & Trebuchet is their remarkable pub--

Gack’s family owned an ancient brewery, Gack&Bacon Ltd, located to the west of London in Parsons Green, right along the River Thames in a pastoral setting worthy of a painting by Cuyp. Their motto was Jucundo et Solvere—“Delight and Serve,” a delicious double meaning. Triple, actually, as solvere also meant “solve.” The brewery had a unique design feature—it possessed its own in-house pub, “The Pig & Trebuchet.” The P&T held just upwards of 150 patrons, had a fine stage for the purpose of hosting musical or theatrical entertainment, and was adorned with wainscoting in mahogany from across the Empire and solid English oak from the forests of home. The P&T even had a mascot—an adorable little pig (who had never so much as been near the trebuchet, asserted the family patriarch, Archibald St. James Spottisworth-Gack), named, of course, Sir Francis Bacon.

A popular feature of The Pig & Trebuchet was The Bad Table. This was a table for four that was situated near to the kitchen, far from the stage, and near to the loo. Most, if not all, restaurants had such a table. The one that had built-in annoyances. The one that was sure to be noisy with interruptions. The one at which nobody wanted to sit.

The thing was, you really couldn’t have a bad table.

In 1835, at the height of the reign of William IV (that delightful old bounder and man of the people), Hunstan Gack of Gack&Bacon Breweries gave a talk to the Gloucester Poultry, Cattle and Hound Society in which he said:

“In any business, a bad table, a lesser product or experience, something presented that you know in your heart is inferior to what someone else can get—this has always been commonplace, but that doesn’t mean that it is right.”

The response of his audience was one of such astonishing appreciation and heated debate that Hunstan marched back to his brewery and planted himself in The Pig & Trebuchet, glaring at the worst table in the house. He glared at it for a full fifteen minutes and then he called his staff together. He spoke to them in a low but intense voice for another considerable time, and then he asked for their input. Lively discussion followed. After a time they had all come up with a plan that they were not only happy with, but so thrilled over that they couldn’t wait to try it out on the very next customers who sat down at their worst table.

What they did was to ensure that there was always something special at their Bad Table.

Many delightful experiences were arranged for The Bad Table over the years. Commonplace were simple conversations with the Head Chef and Master Brewer, with samples (at no charge) of avant-garde appetizers and even more outré brews. Individualized tours of the brewery works were offered frequently. Musicians, including famous ones who often were themselves patrons of the P&T, would show up and play or sing for the customers at The Bad Table. Authors would drop by for a pint and deliver a signed copy of their latest book to the diners seated there. (There is a family in Billingshurst who has in their possession a signed copy of original sonnets by William Wordsworth; he had joined their ancestors for dinner at The Bad Table one night back in 1841. This one-off book was now worth a quarter of a million pounds.)

Shortly after the Great War, Admiral John Jellicoe dropped in on a few meals at The Bad Table. The draw for him was Dread Nought Draught, which was brewed in his honour. On one of these occasions the fellow diners were a couple, the husband of which had served under Jellicoe as a gunner’s mate on Iron Duke. The great C-in-C of the Grand Fleet was practically worshipped by his sailors, and his former crewman, a stolid John Bull type not given to displays of strong emotion, especially in public, was reduced to tears by the experience of dining with his Admiral.

The overall effect of The Bad Table down through the many years was that people talked about it. They sought it out, asking “May I sit at your worst table this afternoon, please?” They told stories about the splendid things that always happened there, and they placed Gack&Bacon Ltd into the awareness of countless folk who had never heard of it before.

“I’ve been Bad Tabled” was even local slang for being surprised by something excellent and unexpected.

All in all, The Bad Table at The Pig & Trebuchet was one of the most consistent drivers of business for Gack&Bacon Ltd. And yet it didn’t cost a king’s ransom in advertising dollars and it didn’t need to be plastered on billboards and into the papers every week. And as provenance held, it was even located right next to the loo.

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"The Bad Table" passage is an exposition of and expansion upon Seth Godin's March 21, 2008 blog post by the same name:

http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2008/03/the-bad-table.html