A lovely traditional pub in a small Kent village...
So there I am, on site again in this little village called Lenham, Kent.

I was staying in the hotel, but the beer there was awful, so I popped to the pub next door. In I stroll, and walk up to the bar. I accidentally bump into a large chap at the bar, who has half a pint in his hand. I apologise, and ask if I'd spilt it. "Naah, you're all right!" he says. Nonetheless, I buy him a pint, and we settle in to an evening's putting it away.

After a good evening's chatting, I roll off to bed. The next night, I meet this chap again (did I mention he's called 'Mouse', despite being built like a brick outhouse?) but it's his lodge meeting, so he disappears for most of the evening, and I end up drinking alone. The third night, we catch up again, and continue where we left off. Towards the end of the night, he excuses himself to "do some business", just as his round comes up. From the scraps of conversation, this seems to involve selling some combinations of drugs, guns, and other stuff.

I sprint back to my hotel room, with the words "oh sh1t!" on tape loop in my head. The following morning I phone my much more street-smart brother and ask what the heck I should do.

He answers "Wait - the biggest, hardest, main dealer guy in this village owes you a pint?"

"Er, yeah", says I.

"What, exactly, is your problem with this?" he asked. "You are absolutely untouchable. Have fun!"

And I did.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 21:52, 2 replies)

An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman walk into a pub
The barman says "Is this some kind of joke?"
(lolwhites, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 21:46, 1 reply)

Termite
A termite walks into a bar, and asks the first person he sees "Is the bar tender here?"
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 21:40, Reply)

A guy walks into a pub and he has a pie on his head.

The barman asks 'Why have you got that pie on your head?'

The man says 'Today is Tuesday isn't it?'

The barman replies 'No, today is Wednesday'

The man says 'Fuck me, I must look a right twat then!'
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 21:35, Reply)

the other day
i walked into the pub and said to the barman "pint of best" while i was waiting for my drink i noticed that vincent van gogh is sat at one of the tables. so i walked over to him and said "are you vincent van gogh?" he said "yes" so i asked him "do you want a pint?" "no ta i've got one 'ere" was his reply
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:59, 4 replies)

I made this a few weeks ago, there were no disasters.

(jlkgjsfhoj, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:58, 7 replies)

Guiness is not a suitable boatrace beverage....how I lost two whole days to the black death....
Long time lurkage....first time posting....

It’s long so bear with me...

From the age of 16 or so my merry bunch of friends and I patronised a popular local pub down the road. Twas a blissful place... staff that were easy on the eye, honest decent clientele and a landlord with a relaxed attitude to the prevailing licensing laws of the time. (Sadly, tis no longer the aforementioned happy place as the landlord has moved on and the notrights, chavs and assorted scumbags have slowly taken over). Over time we were accepted into the inner circle of the pub's regulars and were invited to join in Dave the landlord's extra curricular activities.

The usual modus operandi after 11pm would be for the chosen few to move into the tap room whilst the riff raff were herded out of the exits, the doors were bolted, blackout curtains drawn and the jukebox and pool table set to free play and the drinks would flow. The bar operated on a serve yourself policy, noting down what you had in the little black book and you settled your tab once a week. If we were feeling peckish, the fryers would be lit and chip butties prepared. The system worked as everyone respected Dave and his hospitality.

Often we would drink through the night and wander home whilst the milkman was doing his thing....good times.

One such night, between Christmas and New Year as I recall, my mate Greg had been nominated to serve all present in lieu of punishment for a previous school boy error which escapes my memory. He took his punishment graciously and performed his duties as bar keep in good spirit. We were on the the Guinness and a jolly good time was being had by all present. The challenge of a boatrace was laid down by one of the old boys. Not wanting to shy away from a bit of banter and also being fairly sure of ourselves after a skinful, we obliged and 2 teams of 4 were formed and 8 pints of the black gold lined up on the bar.

Dave started the proceedings and we won the first heat by a considerable margin (I can down a Guinness without coming up for air).

The old boys understandably wanted a rematch, yet more Guinness was poured whilst I frequented the gents. On my return I was handed a pint of the black stuff and took my place as tail end charlie in the 'boat' and the race commenced. The progress was notably slower this time, the previous pint laying heavy in our stomachs. As it came to me it was neck and neck, I chugged for England but alas it was a dead heat.

I set my empty vessel on the bar, and took a seat; something wasn't right, I had a funny taste in my mouth and could feel a low grumble from the pit of my stomach. I put it down to the brain fog descending after a few too many and decided to 'man up' and join my companions at the bar. Greg handed me another pint and the score had to be settled.

Once again I took my place and did what needed to be done... I don’t know who won or lost, nor did I care.

It turns out that Greg and Dave had been doctoring my pints with a not insignificant quantity of paint stripper masquerading as cheapest of the cheap white rum.

I passed out and I’m told by Greg that he bundled me in a taxi to his house, and manhandled me on to his sofa.

I have no recollection of coming to slightly as Greg’s dog licked my face, nor do I remember getting up ranting and then running out of the house into to the December darkness in t shirt and running as fast and as far as I could whilst Greg was in pursuit to see I came to no harm. When he caught me I got him in a headlock and threw him into a bush, that’s what friends are for right? I don't remember any of this.

Fuck knows how I got home, must have been the beer scooter, when I did I left the front door not only unlocked, but wide open.

My mother, bless her cotton socks, tried to rouse me well into the following afternoon when several family members turned up for obligatory seasonal pleasantries. I'm told that when informed of their imminent arrival, I enquired if they had made an appointment to see me. Needless to say I was not for getting up and slept right through until the next day.

I woke up sometime in the early evening the following day, in the same clothes that I ventured out to the pub in 2 days previously. I was sharing my bed with what I later deduced to be the contents of my stomach and the sensation similar to what I imagine having your head slowly crushed in a vice. I got the all too familiar feeling that the big bad beer bear had been and stole my money and shit in my mouth. This was low....definitely not my finest hour.

I had a rinse, sorted myself and my sheets out and decided to get back on the horse, what makes you bad makes you better and all that jazz....

I called Greg and he seemed genuinely worried about me, we met in the pub later, his face was covered in scratches from the head/bush interface that I subjected him to. He gave me the evil concoction in the first place, so we were even. All sins forgiven, he filled in what I did and the ribbing ensued....

Apologies for length, but I don’t hear your mother complaining....
(tofer is sweating like a dyslexic on countdown......, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:33, 1 reply)

Loz..
Loz, still a regular at my local, is the most emminently gullible person I have ever met.

Over the years the poor guy was blagged, in return for a pint, to drink a jar of pub vinegar, eat sachets of condiments and to swallow various coins, including on one occasion a 50p piece.

This last he brought to the pub a couple of days later in a plastic bag, fresh from the toilet bowl that morning. Niiiice.
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:33, Reply)

A summary of the stories so far
I was in [name of pub which closed down/changed hands years ago and lost all its charm] in [place only five people have ever heard of], when I [saw/heard/smelt] a [man/woman/dog] doing [insert inappropriate bodily function] in [insert unlikely place].


Now you needn't bother with reading the previous ten pages.
( MatJ LOOK, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:30, 3 replies)

Evo..
..was a regular at my local until he got a girlfriend, since when he's not been seen much.

Tall, gangly, with a skinhead and a toothy grin.. kind of an overgrown west midlands gollum. He wore the nastiest sportswear going and it always looked a couple of sizes too small for him - drainpipe trackies exposing colourful boxer shorts and tiny t-shirts that rode up his belly.

Not possesed of much wit, his favorite trick was to exaggerate the frequently-visible arsecrack and belly by bending over and wiggling. He became known for it, so much so that people would shout "show us yer arse Evo", and he'd just yank his trousers down any old how, shuffle a bit, and gurn like Shane Mcgowan hallucinating a case of Jameson after a night of falling over.

He was also a dodgy bastard who made a living selling Vauxhalls on ebay with the mileage counters tweaked, and selling rubbish hash.

A lot of lovely people hang round pubs..
(raymond "three griddle pans" luxury yacht lovin' the christmas action, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:21, Reply)

Walked into a packed pub in Lime Street station
jukebox was cheap at the time.

Threw in a £2 coin.

Selected "Mr Boombastic,"

took a drag on my cigarette

Selected "Mr Boombastic,"

Drained my half

Selected "Mr Boombastic,"

Selected "Mr Boombastic,"
Selected "Mr Boombastic,"
Selected "Mr Boombastic,"
Selected "Mr Boombastic,"

left.
(Slyph, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:07, 10 replies)

a three legged dog
walks into a saloon in the old west. he slides upto the bar and says to the barman "i'm looking for the man who shot my paw"
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 20:01, Reply)

a mate
his parents used to run one of the pubs near to where we were at school. he came in one morning and told me that the night before some guy came in and proceeded to get utterly shitfaced to the point where my mates dad decided he had had enough and chucked him out

the drunk then managed to climb up onto the roof of the pub. stopping half way up to draw a cock on the sign hanging on the wall and refused to come down, instead he demanded a helicopter or he would go on hunger strike
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 19:51, Reply)

Sarah Jessica Parker walks into a bar
the barman says "Why the long face?"
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 19:44, 3 replies)

Is she with you?
the post below reminded me of a game my mates and I used to play in the pub.

You'd be set up for a night of drinking and (failing) to pull.

If you happened to spot a particularly ugly girl, and I'm talking about only the ugliest, the sort that makes you flinch, you would say to your mate "Is she with you?"

They would then need to find someone even uglier to get you back with. If at any point you failed and you were labelled at the end of the night, you would have to attempt to leave with the person in the question, for some post-pub sexeh tiem.

Unfortunately, as we are all a bunch of ugly bastards ourselves we usually failed in this task.

Writing about it makes it seem quite cunty, but when are three sheets to the wind that sort of thing tends not to be a concern...
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 19:42, 5 replies)

Tell her
Me and my mates were in a pub a few weeks back and we just found out about this game called "Tell Her"

Basically if your talking about a girl who you is in your eyesight and someone says 'tell her' within a few seconds afterwards, you have to tell the girl what you were saying about them... if you dont there are punishments

e.g.
X says - She is well fit!
Y says - Tell her!
X says - fuck! Oh well

but it could be a hell of a lot worse as happened a few weeks back...

X says - That girl has the face of a fucking frog on crack
Y says - Tell her!
X says - Fuck off, no way
Y says - PUNISHMEEEENT!
X says - fuck it i'll do it

we decide snorting up a double shot of vodka with a straw, he procedes to do it, but chunders violently all over the place!

that'll learn em
(braindrop, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 19:31, 2 replies)

I went into a pub one night and there was a joke book on the bar full of really old, shit pub jokes.
So I posted them all here.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 17:50, 13 replies)

man walks into the pub with a long face
sits down at the bar, and says to the barman 'dude i need a DRINK. i got no money, but if you like, i can show you somethign AMAZING.

the barman thinks, and says, ok, show me and if it's amazing enough, you get a free one.

the man opens a small holdall, and a tiny man in a full tuxedo hops out, peers round the room, spies an old upright piano, and leaps off the bar and legs it over to the piano.
he starts tickling the ivories, first chopin, then bach, then some fine honky-tonk number. impressed, the bartender pours the man a whiskey. the man knocks it back and says 'look, if you liked that, you'll LOVE this. free drinks all night?? the barman nods, so the man pulls out an old battered oil lamp. he says 'rub this, i got it off a guy, it's got a genie, and the usual deal, three wishes. he had one, i had mine, now there's one left. use it wisely.

the barman takes the lamp, rubs it and sure enough a rather elderly genie comes wheezing out. the barman whispers in his ear, the genie smiles, nods, and claps his hands. suddenyl there's amighty sound, like 'poof' and the bar is filled with quacking. there are ducks fuckin EVERYWHERE, in the ashtrays, shitting in the bar nuts, in the pint glasses, swimming in the drip trays.. more ducks than you thought existed.

over the deafening row, the horrified barman shouts to the man 'what the FUCK is this? i asked for a million BUCKS not a million DUCKS??? what kind of half-assed genie is this?

the man turns to him and says 'dude, did you HONESTLY think i asked for a twelve inch PIANIST?
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 17:36, 4 replies)

yet more
I was sat in a bar in bristol when I noticed a dog licking his balls,

"I wish I could do that " I said to no one in particular.

to which the lanlord replied

"if you give him a pork scratching he might let you"
(TROLLING AWAY living under a post ironic bridge, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 17:22, Reply)

and another
a polar bear walks into a bar and says, "two pints of..................................................lager please"

to which the barman replies "certainly sir, but why the big paws"
(TROLLING AWAY living under a post ironic bridge, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 17:11, Reply)

yet another pub based anecdote
i was out drinking one night when a giraffe approached me and said,"scuse me mate, i've never been in a pub before and i'm feeling a little out of place. do you mind if i drink with you?" well, what could i say? and thinking 'what harm could it possibly do', i agreed.

Well this giraffe could not take his ale and really began to show me up, after his 4th pint he wobbled a bit then keeled over, 'fuck it', says I, 'now's my chance to ditch this lanky idiot', but as i'm out the door the landlord shouts after me "hey you cant leave that lyin there".
to which i replied, 'it's not a lion...........it's a giraffe'...

i am here all week...
(TROLLING AWAY living under a post ironic bridge, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 17:08, 1 reply)

too drunk to fuck..
i have spent many a night in drunken abandon in small west yorkshire town with the highest number of pubs per capita in the uk, whoopee, not otley that's the most per square mile.... one night in the black bull which was the equivalent of a youth club with a liquor liscense, in walks a chap looking for someone in particular, upon seeing his intended target out comes a large knife or small sword which he brandishes madly about, next thing i see about 30 odd beer glasses and ashtrays flying at his head from all over the bar, it warms my heart to think of the look of terror on this poor guys face as his arse went and he ran away... another time i was blindo at a pogues gig in leeds uni circa 1989 i whipped out my cock and pissed up the bar whilst ordering beers and then lost my shoes in the mosh pit later on!! oh the joys of youth.... i dont care if you don't like it
(TROLLING AWAY living under a post ironic bridge, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 16:53, 2 replies)

A few years ago, I was a member of the university Real Ale society.
One of their more ambitious projects (which, unsurprisingly, was never completed) was to catalogue every pub in Leeds and hopefully find a few new real-ale boozers; a considerable task, as the city is about 15 x 8 miles and has a population of over 700,000. I volunteered to sample the pubs of west Leeds - Stanningley, Bramley, etc.; all well outside the student ghetto and more indicative of the real state of the city. As expected, the quality was extremely variable. The highlight, though, was a boozer on Armley high street called the Royal Hotel.

In my whole life, I have never felt quite as much on edge as I did on entering the place. There was a bar in the centre, spread across two rooms; one with a pool table, one with a stage for bands to play on. There were no decorations of any kind on the walls - just bare plaster. The carpet was very thin, making both rooms loud and echoey. The furniture was minimal to non-existent. The only halfway palatable drink they sold was Tetley draught, though I didn't feel like hanging around to sample it. Unlike all the other pubs in the area, there were no signs up saying it was a member of the pubwatch scheme, although the landlady insisted they were members. The toilets had a large sign sellotaped to the door saying "ANYONE CAUGHT TAKING DRUGS ON THE PREMISES WILL BE REPORTED TO THE POLICE" - suggesting the problem was endemic. The hand-drier had to be repeatedly smacked for it to work more than two seconds (which ironically put the toilets on a par with those in the university union.)

After relieving myself, I quickly left, vowing never to return. Since then, the pub went bust and it's now up for sale, for the trifling sum of £300,000.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 16:32, 4 replies)

Once
........In a pub I used to freqeuent next to the hospital, a red-faced guy burst in, out of breath and sweating profusely. He lurched up to the bar and in a desperate voice asked for a "Triple brandy, for the love of God!".

The barman hurriedly poured the drink which the man downed in one, a look of blissful relief on his face.

"I shouldn't have drunk that" the guy exclaimed "Especially with what I've got".

"Why, what have you got?" asked the barman, his hand out for the money.

"Forty pence" replied the drinker.



/coat
/veal.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 16:26, 1 reply)

Karma
I was 20 and working in a pub in Oxford to get through the summer holidays. It was pretty good work - mostly just chilling out, chatting to the regulars, and being especially friendly to American tourists (tips almost guaranteed - great people...)

One night, we're pretty busy and this rough-looking guy comes in, looking angry, and asks for a Stella.

'Haven't got Stella, mate. Carslberg Export ok?'
'What sort of fucking pub doesn't have Stella?'
'Erm, this one... do you want a pint or not?'
'Yeah, alright, - go on'

So I start pouring. At the same time, I realise why he's agitated - his girlfriend comes rolling in off the street and starts screaming at him:

'Don't you ever speak to me like that again!' etc etc.
'Fuck off! you're doing my head in'

And with that, he walks out, swiftly followed by her still screaming at the top of her lungs.

Wanting to make sure it's not going to get violent (at least until their outside where it's not our problem), I put his abandoned pint down behind the bar and follow them out of the pub right to the front door.

I therefore get to witness him walk out the door, lash out with a hefty kick at the folding pub sign (not realising it's solid wood and weighs about ten stone so no scamp will nick it), then hop off down the road on his one working foot whilst being enthusiastically beaten with a handbag by his other half.

I laughed myself silly then went back inside and drank his pint.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 16:25, 1 reply)

I once saw a lion devour a wilderbeast
oh wait a minute...
pubs..
i thought it said safaris

my bad
( Mr Nerdy-Speccy-FuckNuts Ouchy ouchy wa wa!, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 15:45, 1 reply)

The Tasker Tanning
Last year, around September, the manager of my local in Huddersfield set up a Facebook group.

"If 400 people join this group, Richard Tasker will get a spray tan"

Naturally everyone signed up, if memory serves more than 600 people swiftly joined up, which was impressive as the pub's not massive, so 600 must be about twice the establishment's legal capacity.

It is declared that Richard Tasker, legendary barman, awesome mate, and all round stand up bloke, will be having his spray tan in the pub.

The day comes at the end of October. The pub's packed out. The theme from Rocky comes on, as a little white man in a dressing gown is paraded through the pub before being taken to the DJ booth, where a spray tan machine is waiting for him. He strips off his dressing gown to reveal he is wearing a poorly fitted thong. He then recieved a spray tan, thus turning this man:


Into this man:


All in the name of charity, of course!
( Styxx hates when people talk in the third person, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 15:31, 2 replies)

got in a fight with three squaddies in farnham once
in a scream pub, on this ludicrous premise:
pillar in middle of room with small shelf for glases round edge. put down my cider, took off my coat, looked back, other beers had joined it, identified mine being head-free and piss coloured (and flavoured.. blackthorn *shudders*
) and pick it up. next thing i know 'oi! cunt!' *meathead #1 shoves me* 'you looking at my FUCKING pint you fucking CAAAAAHNT?!?!?' *meathead #2 shoves me 'you looking at his fuckin pint you fucking student fuckin CAAAHNT?!?!?! *meathead #3 pipes up 'fuckin CAAAAAAAAHNT!!!!'

in fairness i don't think 'well i'm sure as shit not looking at your girlfriend here, so ask her to stop fuckin pushing me' was the BEST thing i could have said, but hey ho, my mouth often out-accelerates my brain. thankfully about the same time the punches (which for the record, could have been delivered by anaemic toddlers for all the effect they had, and i AM a self-confessed pussy) started flying, a group of 4 military police burst in, grabbed us all, dragged us outside, and after realising i wasn't one of their meathead brood, set about forcibly herding their mongs into the back of a van, using big fuckoff sticks as gentle encouragement. they then apologised, one of them even replaced the pint i'd spilt, and explained that these douchenozzles had been goign down the main street of farnham from one pub to another looking for students to fight.
this was 2001, so i'd imagine it's eminently possible they went on to torment innocent iraqu civilians in a similar manner.

the massive cunts.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 15:06, 2 replies)

Joe ruins pints!
Sitting in the pub having a drink with a few of the lads waiting for Joe to turn up.

He turns up doesn't even go to the bar just grabs a chair and sits next to us with a look of excitement on his face.

"Lads lads. LADS! I've decided to try something!"

This grabs our attention, we know something monumentally stupid is coming. This is the same lad who caught the clap from a girl he knew had it because he "got bored of wearing the rubber"

The same lad who informed an ex girlfriend of mine that she was lucky to be going out with someone as nice as me "because he's always going on about how nice your tits are"

The same lad who left a girls house at 5AM after not sleeping with her. After she got into bed with him, completely starkers. Just because "I could tell, she really wasn't up for it"

"LADS. Listen!"

"Come on then, what're you trying out?"

His grin broadened.

"Not wiping my arse!"

Cue every single drink being pushed away and the unlucky fella tucking into a steak and kidney pie looking decidedly green!
(Dangerous Disco Trev Isn't my real name, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 14:56, 1 reply)

A long long time ago, in a publiverse far, far away
Went to school with a chap called Russell Powell.
He had a younger sister called Lesley, and a younger one called Jenny, that one you will have seen on tv. EDIT Lesley was curvier and in many ways prettier than jenny turned out to be .

Lesley went out with my mate Tony for best part of 2 years. we were in the school local ( teachers around the saloon side of the then recently knocked all in one, pupils around the previously public side.)

It is Lesley`s birthday, curmudgeonly George the licensee has seen her drinking in there nearly 3 years, "Congratulations, can I buy you one?" When he brings it back he asks, "and how old are you today? "Eighteen".

Wish I had had a camera, only the mental pic remains of the look on his face.
(tootired Is searching for a funny sig, nothing good so far, Sun 8 Feb 2009, 14:42, 3 replies)