I've worked in a fair few in my time.
I've had to deal with "drunk" customers falling down steep flights of stairs, glassings, stabbings, attacks with pool cues, attacks with pool balls in socks, customers throwing pay phones at me and death threats, among other things... and this was during the day shifts.

Spare a thought for the poor bar staff, who have to be (relatively) sober enough to deal with your shit.
( GeordieJay Bummers are deaf, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:59, 6 replies)

I remember when Wetherspoons used to ID anyone who looked remotely youthful, before they'd even let you come inside.
Of course, if you did make it in, you could tickle your 17 year old palate with exotic beers. Like Toohey's.
Wild times, indeed.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:58, 1 reply)

the castle
duct tape on the seats, the overpowering smell of stale piss, the sounds of coke-snorting coming from the women's toilets, dirty glasses, this place had the lot. police riot vans were outside on pretty much a daily basis, usually to pick up the same people. i once saw a woman glass her fella in the face and nobody seemed to bat an eyelid.
still, someone had kicked shit out of the side of the pool table, so it was free to play.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:58, 2 replies)

An extremely dodgy boozer in Camden (long since closed)
The dirtiest, smelliest dank hole I think I've ever been drunk in, it had one redeeming quality and that was that it was possible to buy and smoke weed on the premises, rather like an Amsterdam coffee shop. The house dealer was the guy sitting on the stool at the end of the bar (he may not be the same person, but he always had the same seat) and once you'd got a bit of squidgy or skunk and a pint, no-one would give you any hassle whatsoever if you were to sit down and roll up a fatty. Except - and this was their only rule - you were not allowed to skin up on the table. They'd tell you off for that and you had to do it under the table on your knees.

My missus at the time loathed the place, but I thought it was brilliant. I never saw the slightest bit of trouble in there, they used to have open mic comedy and accoustic nights and you'd meet the widest range of people...one evening I (separately) made the acquaintance of a transsexual vampire named Booboo and an actress (famous for being in Friends) who I'd fancied since I was a teenager.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:55, 3 replies)

My brother and I were picked up by his girlfriend after a night of
lager swilling, and were on the way home.

Driving towards Fulham, we're both starting to squirm a bit. It becomes obvious we're going to have to find somewhere for a piss.

'Can you stop at the next pub, Kirst', he says. She dutifully does, and both of us dash out of the car, burst through the pub doors, and head straight to the gents at the back of the bar.

A few merciful minutes later, we head back out, via the bar. It's pretty dark in here, now we have the time to notice.

It's all men. Some in leather. The part of the bar furthest from the door is very dark, but there are people moving around, and we can hear grunting sounds.

"Hello boys. You want anything special?" the barman says. I swear we left two people shaped holes in the exit door as we left.
(username failed moderation, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:53, 4 replies)

Perfumed ponce.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:53, 2 replies)

I once asked this guy about Loom.

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:49, 1 reply)

the one in ID where Warren Clarke is the Landlord

( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:45, Reply)

Ken Dodd once got the hiccups while on holidays in Florida.
He asked a nervous bellboy at the hotel to give him a fright, so the bellboy said "Mr Dodd, gee, BOO, sir."

You can all fuck off now.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:38, 2 replies)

all of the pubs in wales
you're not welcome
( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:35, 2 replies)

My other half's story
When she first moved to London, and before I'd met her, my other half lived in Stepney with her alcoholic (now ex-) husband. Every Friday she'd have to trawl round the local pubs trying to find which one he'd settled into for the weekend. Not being an East End fishwife, she didn't have the nous to stride into a pub and shriek "Is that drunken bum Jeff in here?" so instead she would just guiltily creep in, have a quick recce round the darkest corners and then leave. Eventually she discovered that bar staff could be quite helpful if she actually approached the bar, ordered a drink and asked after his whereabouts. Finally she realised that there wasn't much point searching him out and would end up having a few drinks in one particular pub and chatting with the locals.
One such Friday night, just before last orders, an old lady came round with a bucket. Seeing that the locals were enthusiastically digging deep into their own pockets she chucked a few quid in, not quite sure what charity she'd just donated to but not much bothered either. Then a lock-in ensued. The front door was locked, the blinds and lights were lowered. The old lady from before went up to the bar, plonked down a battered old tape player and hit 'Play'. The tape was so stretched and worn with age that the music playing was almost unrecognisable. People started clapping and cheering.
The old lady then climbed up onto a table and, shuffling to the warped sounds of David Rose and his Orchestra, started removing her clothes, revealing herself to be even more stretched and worn than the tape. And because she'd given the single largest donation of the night, the stripper most generously threw her support panties to my other half.
TL;DR My future wife inadvertently scored a pair of stripper's knickers.
( wakeupandsmellthebacon, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:27, Reply)

Yates wine lodge in <insert name of any town with a Yates wine lodge here>

( Muns, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:23, 7 replies)

Sadly gone now
The Meyrick Arms, Falcon Road, Battersea.
Walk in through the doors and immediately step to the left to avoid the foot wide hole in the the floorboards.

A hole in one of the windows where the pool table was a tad too close.

And of course within a couple of minutes of arriving, some strange bloke would ask you if you wanted some meat. If you asked what type it was he'd reply "Dead meat."
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:23, Reply)

My brother went to university in Salford.
If he or his friends wanted to go to one of the pubs in town, they always had to take a specific mate with them, as he was the only one able to do the local accent well enough to avoid being beaten up when ordering.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:21, Reply)

Last.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:07, Reply)

I went to the Bell in Northfield when it was the meeting house of the Birmingham NF.
They told us to sup up and fuck off so we supped up and fucked off (because my Accord was in for repairs and I didn't want to upset the supermodels by getting ultra violent).
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:07, 8 replies)

I took my wife to one of my youth haunts in Wigan
and was just trying to persuade her that it wasn't as rough and grim as it seemed when the couple sat on the opposite bench started fucking.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:04, Reply)

I once queued up outside a pub at 11am with one of the recently-released Guildford Four.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 15:02, 2 replies)

Clearly a great place to pull...
One time, me and my brother wandered into a pretty rough place somewhere in Hoxton, can't remember exactly where or what it was called. You know the sort of place, dirty floor, dirty bar, everyone just trying to get pissed as fast as possible etc. Like Wetherspoons but even mankier.

So, most pubs have a condom dispenser in the gents loos just on the off chance that you get lucky that evening and need protection at short notice. Not this establishment, oh no. Instead of dispensing condoms, the machines in the gents loos dispensed...

...pornographic DVDs. Seriously. I have never since been anywhere where the chances of pulling (or general quality of clientele to be pulled, if you will) was so low that you were better off just heading home for a wank. Pure class, right there.
(An Inflatable Bearded Whumpus, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:45, 2 replies)

Thirst
Thanks, I was gagging for that
( buffet_the_appetite_slayer ٩(●̮̃•)۶ jacked in to the ICE on, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:24, 1 reply)

Cyprus Tavern, Manchester back in the day. The bouncer had an alsation, the coatroom attendants were proper tooled up and it kicked off every week without fail. Best jukebox going made it worth the risk now and again.
(chovnik, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:24, 1 reply)

Having recently become single after almost 10 years I went to a pub on my own a couple of weeks ago.
There was nothing dodgy about the boozer, but even though I was just having (and, which is rare, enjoying) a pint I felt weird and a bit creepy. I can't imagine this is the best way to meet girls, is it?
( Fork Has lost his bash virginity!, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:22, 4 replies)

alright
Star Wars.

Cheers.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:19, Reply)

FIRST

( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:15, Reply)

Mos Eisley Cantina LOL

( Pig Bodine., Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:06, Reply)

Oh man, there's some alkies and poor people drinking in Wetherspoons.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 14:02, 8 replies)

My "local" from Yelp - although I don't live anywhere near it.
Ever since I caught the wrong bus to university one day and rolled past the Oxford pub, I've wanted to visit it and soak in its inevitable weirdness. Seemingly the sole survivor of some catastrophe that wiped out everything else on Oxford Street, the building stands all on its lonesome with only a small path and few trees to keep it company.

Fears of a bowie knife ramming into my ribs ground through the mechanics of my brain as I finally pushed my way inside. By the time I left I felt like I'd found my new soul mates, either that or cell mates. It's the Pub of Lost Souls.

The regulars were astonished by my arrival and spent the next couple of hours and pints befriending me like I held some key to their escape. The imperturbable ex-copper of a landlord, apparently one of the first sent in after the Toxteth riots, stood with arms crossed, but everybody else opened up their hearts and let tall tales pour out.

This is the place where you can be anybody and lies blend with reality. You wouldn't dare bring a date but if you have a hankering for telling people your name is Jeremiah and you farm trout for a living, nobody in the Oxford is going to question you.
( rjmrjm, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 13:56, 6 replies)

I always stay for LAST orders.
Too soon?
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 13:54, Reply)

I've got an alcoholic alsatian

( broadsword w⚓, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 13:50, Reply)

.
(apologies for the late question. Got swamped with work. Had about 3hrs sleep. Bleary)
( chthonic, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 13:47, 3 replies)