Barred, kicked out, **** off and don't come back.

During NS and for a few years after, a couple of good mates and me managed to get chucked out of every bar and disco in town through sheer mongtardery.

If I met myself now as I was then, there would be blood, the obnoxious little oik.
 
The only place I've been 86'd from was from this one bar in Detroit, where I was trying to stop a fight between some random c-unts and my mate for whatever reason, trying to calm them down, got sucker punched by one of them, resulting in a nose bleed.

The bouncers acknowledged I had done nothing wrong, but I was not welcome anymore.
Hats off to the bouncers, they know a cnut when they see one!
 
There's a pub I drive past some days that I haven't been in since 1997. It isn't because I don't drink any more, it's down to the fact that I got ******* spastic shitfaced in there one night, sang a song about ******* old ladies that made a couple of tables worth of OAPs get up and leave their scoff mid eat, pissed my pants and tried to spark up a joint. Over the years I've also been kicked out of a fair few pubs and bars, and a country or two as well ( I shall always remember a Dutch airport copper saying "You should not laugh, it is not funny" as me and an equally cunted mate had to lean against each other to keep standing up.) Anyone else want to share their tales of unfortunateness and expulsion?
Were you in full Shim mode then?

We have to know to gauge the outcry of the old dears if you looked like Les Dawson in a frock
 
There's a pub I drive past some days that I haven't been in since 1997. It isn't because I don't drink any more, it's down to the fact that I got ******* spastic shitfaced in there one night, sang a song about ******* old ladies that made a couple of tables worth of OAPs get up and leave their scoff mid eat, pissed my pants and tried to spark up a joint. Over the years I've also been kicked out of a fair few pubs and bars, and a country or two as well ( I shall always remember a Dutch airport copper saying "You should not laugh, it is not funny" as me and an equally cunted mate had to lean against each other to keep standing up.) Anyone else want to share their tales of unfortunateness and expulsion?
42 browny points if you can remember the words to “Fuccking old ladies”, and prove it by writing it on here!
 
I was banned from a bar in Bielefeld in the 80’s for getting pished and riding a stolen bike through an open window, pushed 4 or 5 tables together, ride the bike the length of them and out the window. I dislocated my shoulder on landing and ended up in the Krankenhaus. I was back in the bar a month later after receiving a lecture from the owner and a promise to behave.
 

exiledblue

War Hero
I have a bit of a story, I will try and compress it, please excuse the term "Street Fighter" I cringed as much as everyone.

22 year old Thunderbox out with his mates on New Years Eve, future Mrs Thunderbox at her mates party.

End up in a club and standing near us is a guy all on his own, try and bring him into our group, he tells us he is a "Street Fighter" we ignore it and buy him a beer crash him ciggies, he keeps saying "someone is going to get it tonight, he is a Street Fighter".

So we think he is a bit odd and a bit lonely, we were all happy and trying to chill him out, seemed to work 3 hours, new year, all buying rounds and he is OK.

New year comes and goes and this guy starts arcing up again, "Someone is going to get it, I am a Street Fighter".

After 30 minutes more of this I get a bit paranoid, what if he is going to glass one of us, I will be fooked if it is me.

So I decide in my pissed up haze, enough is enough, I am going to put this guy out of his misery before anyone gets hurt. Have a swig of my pint, turn around and swing one straight at his head, miss, fall onto him, **** I am on top, punch him in the mouth??? Splits open the knuckle on my thumb.

Within seconds I find myself thrown onto the snow covered footpath with a stomp from a bouncers size 10 boot on my lungs for good luck.

Anyway, next day Mrs Thunderbox to be is asking how I cut my knuckle, i said that whilst we were warming up having a few looseners, my house mate broke a glass in the sink and i put my hand in and cut it.

As I am saying it (with like comedy timing) my house mate is coming downstairs, opens the door and says, "******* great punch in that guys mouth, no wonders its cut".

The look on her face was priceless as I am sure was mine.

I also had an almost perfect size 10 bruise on my chest, you could tell it was a boot, it was like a footprint in mud!
If you remember that much it didnt happen. We want real pissed up stories
 

exiledblue

War Hero
During NS and for a few years after, a couple of good mates and me managed to get chucked out of every bar and disco in town through sheer mongtardery.

If I met myself now as I was then, there would be blood, the obnoxious little oik.
I think most of us on this site would be the same.

Youngsters today are so bad we were never like that in our day lol
 
I can remember someone being really drunk in some obscure pub in mid Wales and claiming they could smash a beer glass on their face without cutting themselves

In a big shock to themselves they failed big time, I think the purple cloaked emperor (PBUH) must have been whispering sweet nothings in his ear

Having not learnt his lesson of mongness, the same weekend whilst pissed again, they decided to shave their hair off their head with a bic razor. That didn't go well either, we told him not to, but meh alcohol they don't listen
 

JackSofty

Old-Salt
Barred from many a boozer in Central London. Every time I met up with old muckers, our Kiwi mate could never handle his lemonade.
The two SPADs were always the same: he would take the band out of his hair (yes, I know) and shake it loose or he would fall asleep bolt upright on a bar stool. As soon as the first happened or once he was awake, the shit would start, running all over the place, gobbing off at every group of women, shouting crap at blokes and swearing at staff thinking that the whole palaver was hilarious.
I was usually tasked to drop the dead donkey, bung him physically on a Piccadilly Line train to get him to Hammersmith and the warm embrace of his (stunning) GF.
Next day cue telephone call from a nick in Southend, Crouch End or wherever the daft bell end landed.


Sent from my karzi while losing several pounds
 

TamtamPWRR

War Hero
Were you in full Shim mode then?

We have to know to gauge the outcry of the old dears if you looked like Les Dawson in a frock
Alas, no shimminess was involved more's the pity, a few sequins would have helped my case I reckon. Maybe.

Oh, there was also the cheap hotel in Cairns that wasn't happy with me drinking a bottle of vodka and chucking my empties (and everyone else's) off the rooftop terrace down into the beachside esplanade below late one Friday night. Again no shimminess but the pissed trousers were in attendance in magnificent stinking flow.

Oh, and the Bourbon And Beefsteak bar in Sydney wasn't happy with me lying back on their piano and lighting my farts.
 
Last edited:

exiledblue

War Hero
Barred from many a boozer in Central London. Every time I met up with old muckers, our Kiwi mate could never handle his lemonade.
The two SPADs were always the same: he would take the band out of his hair (yes, I know) and shake it loose or he would fall asleep bolt upright on a bar stool. As soon as the first happened or once he was awake, the shit would start, running all over the place, gobbing off at every group of women, shouting crap at blokes and swearing at staff thinking that the whole palaver was hilarious.
I was usually tasked to drop the dead donkey, bung him physically on a Piccadilly Line train to get him to Hammersmith and the warm embrace of his (stunning) GF.
Next day cue telephone call from a nick in Southend, Crouch End or wherever the daft bell end landed.


Sent from my karzi while losing several pounds
Could you try that in English please. I'm sure its amusing in a real language
 

JackSofty

Old-Salt
No speaka da lingo??


Sent from my karzi while losing several pounds
Just to clarify for those ‘at the rear’:
Boozer - Public House.
Central London - Place where tourists urinate.
Muckers - Friends.
Kiwi - New Zealander.
Lemonade - Booze for lightweights.
SPADs - Signals Passed at Danger (rail transport term).
Bar Stool - Sticky public house furniture.
Sh*t - (in this context) Trouble.
Gobbing Off - (in this context) Loud, unsolicited, sexually offensive speech.
Crap - (in this context) Loud, unsolicited, offensive speech.
Palaver (in this context) Troublesome chaos.
Tasked - Detailed.
Drop the Dead Donkey - Remove the offending article (newspaper editing/printing term).
Bung - Insert.
Piccadilly Line - Place where drunks urinate.
Hammersmith - Quaint village West of London consisting almost entirely of Polish shops and dog faeces.
Embrace - Encirclement of a person by the arms of another.
GF - Girlfriend.
Nick - Police Station.
Southend - Pretty, English coastal town where Essex girls drop their knickers (by the bins).
Crouch End - Quaint village North of London full of Turkish drug dealers.
Bell End - Bell end.
I hope that this clears it up, if not try penecillin.


Sent from my karzi while losing several pounds
 
Alas, no shimminess was involved more's the pity, a few sequins would have helped my case I reckon. Maybe.

Oh, there was also the cheap hotel in Cairns that wasn't happy with me drinking a bottle of vodka and chucking my empties (and everyone else's) off the rooftop terrace down into the beachside esplanade below late one Friday night. Again no shimminess but the pissed trousers were in attendance in magnificent stinking flow.

Oh, and the Bourbon And Beefsteak bar in Sydney wasn't happy with me lying back on their piano and lighting my farts.
Strange places, Aussi boozers - got banned from one and I'd only been in the country about half an hour!

Flew in for the first time to give a course to the guys on a QANTAS simulator and taking over from my oppo (an ex-matelot who, not to put a fine point on it, liked his grog). Don't worry , he said, we'll collect you from the airport. Flight lands, cleared immigration and customs - no oppo. Arrivals area empties - still no oppo. All of a sudden there was a big Wayhey, oppo turns up plus a course full of p!ssed up Aussies to escort me to my digs. Dropped my cases off - escorted to a boozer at the end of the street. Bloke on the door says 'eff off, you're banned, one of you is wearing thongs'. Talk about everyday a schoolday, thongs in Australia are NOT underwear and Aussie pubs have dress rules.

Another trip to Qantas, after a post course refreshment session in the Rowers Club at Mascot, I drove back to my appartment (V.Risky in Sydney - the cops can random breathtest) and parked up on the ground floor. Realising that I wasn't going to make it up the stairs without p!ssing myself, I went against the low wall by the car. A couple of Aussie birds came out of the boozer opposite a bit worse for wear and were trying to get a taxi to take them to Kings Cross. After a few fruitless minutes, one of the girls, who was wearing a miniskirt, said 'I'll show you how to get a taxi', stepped out into the road, lifted her skirt up revealing a pair of extremely well fitting panties. They got a taxi very shortly afterwards.
 
Strange places, Aussi boozers - got banned from one and I'd only been in the country about half an hour!

Flew in for the first time to give a course to the guys on a QANTAS simulator and taking over from my oppo (an ex-matelot who, not to put a fine point on it, liked his grog). Don't worry , he said, we'll collect you from the airport. Flight lands, cleared immigration and customs - no oppo. Arrivals area empties - still no oppo. All of a sudden there was a big Wayhey, oppo turns up plus a course full of p!ssed up Aussies to escort me to my digs. Dropped my cases off - escorted to a boozer at the end of the street. Bloke on the door says 'eff off, you're banned, one of you is wearing thongs'. Talk about everyday a schoolday, thongs in Australia are NOT underwear and Aussie pubs have dress rules.

Another trip to Qantas, after a post course refreshment session in the Rowers Club at Mascot, I drove back to my appartment (V.Risky in Sydney - the cops can random breathtest) and parked up on the ground floor. Realising that I wasn't going to make it up the stairs without p!ssing myself, I went against the low wall by the car. A couple of Aussie birds came out of the boozer opposite a bit worse for wear and were trying to get a taxi to take them to Kings Cross. After a few fruitless minutes, one of the girls, who was wearing a miniskirt, said 'I'll show you how to get a taxi', stepped out into the road, lifted her skirt up revealing a pair of extremely well fitting panties. They got a taxi very shortly afterwards.
You flew to Australia on a QANTAS simulator? Was it significantly cheaper?
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
Went to a stag do in York with a load of matelots a few years back.

The night before we all stayed at a mate’s gaff in Sowerby Bridge. It was winter and there was snow on the ground. We traipsed out in the cold for a few looseners to prep us for the following day’s activities.

Things were off to a bad start when one of the lads came out of the heads with a handful of pissed on urinal cakes and started chucking them at random people. This progressed to large snowballs being launched into the pubs we were progressively thrown out of. One took out an entire table full of drinks, breaking about 20 glasses.

At about 4am we did a runner from the kebab shop, a fucking sterling idea given that it was on the same road as my mate’s flat, whom they delivered to frequently. They even knew him by name.

My mate ended up having to move to Scotland because he was barred from every pub, restaurant and takeaway in the town as a result of our behaviour.
 

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