)I'll start by telling the tale of my ignominious ejection from a drinking establishment (there have been two occasions actually, but I'll stick with this one for the moment) - a true Hollywood style 'carried to the doors and thrown out face first into the mud' affair of which I am very proud. I was about nineteen at the time and had been at college for the day (possibly smoking a bit of weed and visiting the pub {a different one} at lunchtime - certainly not doing any lectures or studying) and decided to go to a pub I visited only infrequently with a few mates after the days end. We entered a fairly quiet and rather dismal barroom with iirc only one other patron in residence and a woman in her fifty's serving behind the bar. Ordering our beers we took them to a table and tasting mine, I found it pretty grim drinking. Returning to the bar, I said to the woman "Excuse me. I think this beer's been sitting in the pipes a bit too long - can you pour me another? This was the days when pubs used to close for the afternoon (to get people back to work iirc) and it was not unusual for beer to get a bit stale in the intervening period between lunch and evening services, but nevertheless the woman rounded on me furiously. "What do you mean 'the beer's stale'" she demanded, "The beer is as good as can be. This man (she indicated the other single patron sitting at the bar) is drinking it with no complaints!"
"He won't have a second one!" I replied somewhat huffily, but realising I wasn't going to get anywhere, returned to the table with my friends. Moments later the door to the room flew open and a massive bear of a man stood framed in the doorway. "Who's complaining about the beer!" he demanded, scanning the room with a red face and furious eye.
"I am - it's bloody awful! " I said.
"Right - we'll see about that!" he said, and advancing across the room seized me by the back of the neck, his large hand and vicelike grip brooking no escape. In what seems on recall to have been a single fluid motion he hooked me from my seat, carried me to the front door of the pub and opening it, threw me bodily into the road outside. Picking myself up I immediately turned to return into the fray.......but wisdom and the summary nature of my ejection quickly overthrew my intent and muttering terrible curses as to what I might have done to the man had I returned, I slunk away to lick my wounds.
And there you have it. Not my finest hour I have to say. How I wish I could tell you of how I rolled up my sleeves and horsewhipped the brute to within an inch of his life, but alas it wasn't so. There is no way of getting around it: fair and square, I was chucked out!
], but it just brought it forward a bit). Anyways, I consider that I got off lightly.