I was working the bar in my local last night. We've just had the International Balloon Fiesta, so I was rather knackered, and the Landlord decided to close doors at 9.15.
All those already in could stay until closing, but no one else was allowed in. The shutters were down, the doors were locked, and all access to the pub was closed off.
At 10.20 .. BANG, BANG, BANG.
Back to the merriment and the drinks a-flowing.
All of a sudden, the door to the (ex) Smoke Room bursts open, and the village drunken knob walks in (he's a newcomer to boot). Leg's akimbo, he says 'I'll have a pint of Guinness, please.'
I said, 'How in the name of Allah did you get in here.'
'I climbed the wall.' (It's 9 foot and he's fifty-plus ... and a total knob).
Total silence in the bar. Twenty people are now staring at the eejit.
'This is a Public House,' he says.
'Actually' (says I), 'It's an Inn.'
'What different does that make?'
'No difference at all.' says I.
'So, where's my Guiness?'
'Go away.'
Then, there's a fifteen second, total silence, without everyone looking away except for me and the drunk git.
And then I lost it. I giggled, uncontrollably. Because you see, I never could stand a silence.
'So, are you going to serve me?'
'No. We're closed.'
'Am I such a knob?
'YES' (x by 15).
We opened up for the dray at 7 o'clock this morning. The fucker was still outside !!