^ Apparently this is from the Cross Keys in Bedworth. Absolutely genius marketing, almost makes me want to go to Bedworth. Almost.
Picture this: you're in a pub with some good company, you've all just got yourselves a casual pint of whatever and you all sit down to have a nice little chat about everything and nothing. As the drinks effortlessly flow (wallet permitting), so does the conversation. It begins to span new depths of inaneity and pointlessness, but you're conversing in good company so who's to care what the subject is? Bliss. Ah, I do enjoy a nice little pub session. And then it happens.
Suddenly, you notice that every line of conversation is suffixed with a "Sorry, what?". Instead of new threads of chatter unraveling, repetition of previous statements has become the lion's share of what's spoken. And in-between each utterance, there's often a pause of mild confusion followed by the listeners leaning in towards the speaker in order to decipher what they were saying. There are a lot of self-dismissive 'It doesn't matters' being thrown about, as the effort involved in perfectly reiterating what you've just stated isn't worth the pay off. What the hell has happened? Has everyone gone collectively deaf? Have you all just got a bit sick of each other's company? Did everyone drink too much and now every sentence is a group exercise in trying to figure out what order words go in sentences?
Nope. Someone turned the music up. Really, really loud (although all those other things could have happened too, but that's not the point!!). Now, keep in mind - you're all sitting down. Everyone else in the establishment is sitting down. There is no "dance floor" or whatever you kids call it. You're in a pub. For all intents and purposes, this is a vicinity intended for preching or occasionally standing awkwardly by the bar. And yet the music is as loud as some grotty club.
Apparently, loud music makes people buy more drinks - presumably, the logic is that if you can't capably talk to your company, you're all going to need a drink to sheepishly nurse in the conversational downtime. However, in my case at least and, granted, I am a massive old man at heart, I'm just inclined to leave a pub if I have to compete with the background music. If I'm in a pub, I want to hear things at a reasonable volume and not to have to shout every sentence - if I want music at 11, I'll listen to Spin̈al Tap or go to a club.
(Except I wouldn't go to a club, because clubs are Hell on earth. They're the equivalent to being trapped in the gorilla enclosure during mating season, except somehow the big apes have got expensive clothes and acquired a massive PA system that plays nothing but a relentless drum and bass thud. And they're sweating a lot. And the floor is really sticky.)