Norfolk's answer to the Yeti
I have run pubs with Mr WoodKat for many a year now, and truly the most worthy person to be spoken of here must be one of my old locals. We shall call him Bernie (for that is his name). Now, even Bernie's wife had difficulty understanding Bernie's massively broad Norfolk ramblings, and this was only massively pronounced when Bernie drank. Which he likes to do. Lots. Bernie on one fateful summer's evening after 16 pints of Woodforde's Nelson's Revenge decided to headbutt the concrete pillar outside (not literally; as in having not seen it and tripping over it in his hops fuelled state)
Bernie, being an outdoorsy type of grounds keeper/builder type of man seemed not to mind the several pints of blood which were now pissing down his head and all over several of my staff members and regulars as we desperately tried to persuade Bernie to sit down until the ambulance arrived. He would have none of this until I brought a pint pot of ale out of the pub and told him he could only have it if he sat down. Which he done immediately, like a trained dog. Legend.
(woodkat loves comic sans, Mon 9 Feb 2009, 11:44, Reply)