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)

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( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Sun 8 Feb 2009, 19:47, closed)