For a couple of hours in the rain-soaked Melbourne mid-afternoon, the Lomond was the venue for the Mug, DJ and the George. And ordinary punting was matched by an out of the ordinary venue.

The Lomond is definitely one of the stranger mixes in a pub tab. On the inner fringes of northern Melbourne, just opposite the radio station 3RRR, the Lomond boasts the current leader in the new mugpunter category of “Smallest Punting Facilities”. Including the 3 of us, about 7 or 8 punters hung around a small bar of about 3 metres serving space, combining beer taps with 2 ticket machines and an auto-teller machine. The entire room could not have been more than 10 sq metres. Despite the small size there seemed to be about half a dozen access doors, through which an eclectic (really, they were!) assortment of people came and went - I saw my first punting lesbians!!

Through one of the doorways was another small room of the same size that seemed to be a private punting room for a group of low rent gangsters. Well, we assumed it was private as they had commandeered all available table space and looked a little scary. Another door led out to the drive through bottle shop and obviously based on some honed punting sense, through which a bunch of people appeared just before race time to whack on a bet and then disappear just as mysteriously. And a third led through to a bigger bar area where (I kid you not) there were some crusty looking characters playing Irish music.

To say the service - both beer and punting - was even passable would be like Adam Selwood’s statement to the tribunal - a complete fucking lie. The 2 barman were like ghosts - the first, who could have been the pub owner, in his 50’s, short and fat, the second was about 20 and seemed to be in front of the bar selling pills more often than behind it serving beer (save that tidbit for another day!). The old guy appeared in the tab area about once every 15 minutes to collect money for the umpteen tickets that had gone through the betting machine since he had last appeared and served beer. The young guy appeared twice in his tragically cool t-shirt and skinny leg jeans - I think we managed to get one round out of him in 2 hours.

Really, the Lomond is a shit punting venue - poor service, no tables to lay out the form guide, small that goes beyond intimate, bizarre characters and there is even some machines (although they are thankfully disconnected from the punting area). Yet it had a strangeness that appealed. I wouldn’t rush there but if you wanted a change from the regular dusty punting venue, then a couple of hours at the Lomond is your scene.

So the ratings:

1) Smokiness (until the dreaded July 1) - creditable rating here, but due to the small numbers, unable to match the usual cloudiness.

2) Tracky dacks - a respectable showing despite the crowd, pulled up by the spattering of woggy Carlton supporters in their matching Asics bling suits

3) Cab Drivers. Not one spotted, unless a few of those mystery folk mentioned earlier were on duty cabbies getting in a quick punt

4) Free Food. Not a sausage!

5) Oestrogen. Not sure how to rate this. The group of lesbians clearly are female, but does this qualify for the Mug rating?

And to top it all off, a dog of a day on the punt. How can a quaddie - a “fat quaddie” no less - pay $54?!!