Ok, we have all been there - either battling with those gobby cnuts from the Loamshires after they insulted our regimental mascot or frantically seeking a window to leave by. However some pub fights go far and beyopnd the sordid and the mundane and raise surreality to new and much funnier levels. There once was a cider-house in Bath which has now become a very twee winebar, waley, waley! In its past grandeur however it was mainly populated by crusties, with assorted dogs of no determined breed, who pitched up at five to opening and left at closing. They drank Rat and Rosie, Natch and Cheddar. Frankly their brains had turned to the appley mush that Weston's or Thatchers throw out at the end of the brewing process. Normally they were skunked and E-d up into an aggressively slothful state on top of the cider but one day somebody accused someone of something and it all went off. Crusty jugglers were belting shit out of thieving pikeys and trustifarians alike. The favour was being returned and of course, you can't have a crusty fight without the dogs joining in too. The best bit was when dreadlocked, hippy-trousered, toothless cider monkey A tried to hit similar B with a pool cue. Unfortunately the other end had a Jack Russel cross attached and he couldn't deliver his swashing blow! Funny as feck. Any other tales of derring (is that the time I really need to) do (one)?