Smashing boozer
I used to drink in a pub called the Robert Peel (after ye olde policeman) in Watford. It was positioned on a corner a convenient distance from town centre and the football ground.

I was used to the police having a high presence or even preventing people entering the pubs by the football ground on match days, but this pub was 5 minutes away so normally escaped the jam sandwich embargo.

I recall one day I walked to the pub and found a few police blocking the entrance, it took a minute or so to convince them I was local (complete with showing them my driving licence for ID) before they let me go in.

At the bar the usual faces were inside and I commented about the ordeal of getting in. "It's a Millwall match today, they're expecting trouble" I was told.

"Seriously? What kind of trouble would we get this far from the ground!?" I said, with almost perfect timing a metal litter bin from the high street came crashing through the window and landed on a table then fell to the ground beside me at the bar. Somehow I didn't spill my pint so went and sat down well away from the other windows!
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Mon 10 Feb 2014, 12:25, 2 replies)

The Peel
used to be a Police station, before it was a pub. Leading to the match day irony of uniformed rozzers trying to keep Millwall fans OUT of the nick....
(Carpe Cyprinidae, Mon 10 Feb 2014, 13:08, closed)

Loved that pub, probably just for free pool Tuesday.

Always a good night until Julie stormed in and announced that John had "Shit the bed", somehow none of us felt comfortable around either of them after that.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Mon 10 Feb 2014, 16:03, closed)