Locals
Myself and Mrs joy decided to cut loose and head off to a Beautiful Place Out In The Country™ for the night, leaving the kids at home with a plentiful supply of Bourbon biscuits and hard-on tablets.

So we get to the hotel, room was a bit small, but serviceable, 4 poster bed and superb Loch views. So after a few libations and 'a wee lie down', we head to the bar/restaurant. We had already eaten, and took a pew at the bar, right up at the end of it, squashed right beside a bit that wasn't being used. We faced each other and fell to drinking some lovely red wine. After a while some session musicians set up their stuff and 'live music' cover versions were soon upon us. Some dreadful crooning woman and a throaty 'blues' type guy. It was all very vanilla, and if that is the kind of entertainment that people accept when they 'grow up', then i want to be a teenager all my life thanks.

Anyway, after a bit, this denim jacketed local inbred starts squeezing in at my back, constantly reaching for his can of fucking diet coke that he is using to mix his cheap brand vodka with. Anytime I lean forward to whisper a sweet nothing into my good lady's ear, his arm shoots across, where my back should be, so when i want to lean back, his be-denimed stump is there, like a rude safety barrier. I don't even look across at him, i just lean back, through his arm and ignore his presence, but by fuck does he want a space at this bar, not just ANY space, but exactly where I am. Eventually the strong red wine and bison vodka's take their toll and we decide to head out for a spliff, a loch side walk and then up to the room. As i walk out i say to the cunt, 'there's yer space back', he calls me a wanker, which I didn't hear because of the dull, loud music, but as the missus is at my back, she hears him and gives him the finger, right in his inbred face. He mumbles and shuffles like the cock watcher he is. We laugh and walk out, by the time we get out into the corridor, he has already commandeered the vacated space, looking like a denimed up chimp who has just regained the top branch.

Still, in morning, we had a brilliant breakfast that was made all the better by, not one, but TWO excellent croissants. The second one i cut open, buttered and fired a sausage in. It was like a smug hot dog.

So, has anyone else encountered bad vibes from unfriendly locals?
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:13, 13 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

Yes.
But then I am married to Susan George.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:18, Reply)

You're Simon MacCorkindale?

( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:24, Reply)

Dustin Hoffman
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:29, Reply)

Yep
A farmer in Cornwall once shouted at me and my friends to get our tents 'Orrf moi laaahnd'
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:23, Reply)

and did you?
as long as he wasn't a pig farmer... something sinister about them.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:25, Reply)

We did
he was a cow farmer, and his cows harassed us off his field and ate our supernoodles. Fucking bovine scum
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:26, Reply)

You should have held up some
beef products and taunted the fuckers.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:28, Reply)

To be fair
You *were* worryin' 'is sheep.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 12:28, Reply)

You left your children with hard on tablets?

( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 13:03, Reply)

Yip,
they done a weeks worth in, in less than 30 hours, the wee bastards.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 13:05, Reply)

Having spent my youth going to illegal hippie festivals
I have encountered more fucked-off locals than you could possibly imagine, publicans, shop owners etc. Funnily enough the site of one of the better ones (what used to be the White Goddess Festival in Cornwall) was on Time Team yesterday.

However today I am that fucked off local, in here.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 13:30, Reply)

are you wearing a stonewash
denim jacket perchance?
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 14:07, Reply)

About 30 years ago (I'm showing my age again damn it)
I was on a college geology field trip in the deepest, darkest, most Deliverance type part of West Virginia. (For those who haven't had the pleasure of studying Geology, drinking large quantities of alcohol is just about required when ever doing any geology related field work. This is part of your university studies.

Anyway, after a good day of looking at rocks, we went to a little bar full of a number of who must of all been first cousins, brothers, sisters, etc. combined (as one person’s father could also be his grandfather and half-brother). They had a good local bluegrass band though so it was a lot of fun. After a couple of hours listening to the music, drinking lots of beer and whiskey, I was getting a bit festive (noisy). The band stopped in the middle of a song and told me to get a haircut. All of the cousins then glared at me. It probably would have been smart to leave, but we didn't and as there were about 10 of us, none of us related, they didn't pursue it. If I had been alone however, I sure one of the cousins, or all of them would have made me his/thier bitch.
(MichaelS wasn't picked again, Mon 9 Nov 2009, 15:05, Reply)