Rough Boozers

[windae cleaner]

1. Burnside Bar, Johnstone- Had the pleasure in this place before it was demolished. 2 old women rolling about the floor fighting and an Algetye shiteing in the corner. Didn't even take the head off the pint and i was off.

2. Wallace Bar, Port Glasgow- Was in with a couple of workmates who local it was. Once it was discovered i was from the Paisley area it would better if i left. I did sharpish.

3. Rab Cs Buchanans, Paisley- After getting hassled by junkies to buy their goods(toiletries). I went to the bogs to witness a dog doing a piss beside me at the urinal.

4. Tartan Bar, Paisley- Wasn't threating like the others but it was the Barras. Got a cracking wax hunting jacket out of there for a tenner.

5. The Regent, Edinburgh- I have mentioned this pub in an other thread. Going into a Hibs casuals pub isn't a wise move

[No Ninjas]

In my yoof, whilst out with a young lady, I nipped in to the Inn Shot at the top of well street to wait for a taxi.

It was like walking in the the bar in Star Wars...

[saintnextlifetime]

The County Bar in Johnstone before it was renovated . The toilets in the County would have made those in the bookies in the film Trainspotting (the worst in Scotland) look respectable.

The Coach and Horses in Beith (now closed). Walked in and it was like walking into the Slaughtered Lamb. The place went very quiet and my mate suggested we drink up quickley. Half way through the pints a guy with tattooed nuckles and King Billy tattoo on his arm said it would be a good idea to make our pints our last . I agreed with him , wholeheartedly

[North Sea Saint]

The Auld Rosebud......... noo that wisnae for the faint hearted

[The Sandman]

In 2002, a St Mirren Posse hit Manchester to see Joe Strummer and Shed 7 (fúck Weller and Ian Brown) at Old Trafford Cricketsville, Moi and HSS stayed in Stockport while the rest hit the smoke, that was the scariest pub visit of my life...................

Apart from a time I hit a snooker hall in Nottingham in 79 to pass time while my wench of the time was on a DSS training jaunt, I walked up the stairs with a cue, chalk, tray of balls and met the Rasta Nation, my accent saved me and I left a tad stoned........................

[North Sea Saint]

my accent saved me and I left a tad stoned........................

Just a normal Saturday then

[Howard Hughes in BlueSuedeShoes]

In 2002, a St Mirren Posse hit Manchester to see Joe Strummer and Shed 7 (fúck Weller and Ian Brown) at Old Trafford Cricketsville, Moi and HSS stayed in Stockport while the rest hit the smoke, that was the scariest pub visit of my life...................

Apart from a time I hit a snooker hall in Nottingham in 79 to pass time while my wench of the time was on a DSS training jaunt, I walked up the stairs with a cue, chalk, tray of balls and met the Rasta Nation, my accent saved me and I left a tad stoned........................

Was in Nottingham that very year for my very first pipe band competition. It was with the BB and we were staying in the one big hall. A couple of the "older boys" (i.e. they were about 15) went for a troll through the streets one evening. A group of them encountered said Rasta Nation as individuals. Being as the lads were from Glenburn and thought the only difference between balck and white skin was soap they were somewhat overwhelmed by the dudes until one (Alex Fisher more commonly known as big Dish) bellowed "Fúck me, whit is this? A fúckin' witch hunt?!".

You know Tom & Jerry cartoons where in the darkness of the alleyways and bins you all of a sudden see these eyes appearing and it's all these stray cats? Think of that only without the stray cats, without the cartoonism and without the lack of physical pain.

Cue a bunch of Glenburn punters pre-empting Allan Wells by about 12 months.

[dani bongo]

In 2002, a St Mirren Posse hit Manchester to see Joe Strummer and Shed 7 (fúck Weller and Ian Brown) at Old Trafford Cricketsville, Moi and HSS stayed in Stockport while the rest hit the smoke, that was the scariest pub visit of my life...................

Vinny, Bob Lobster and myself went to a Manchester nightclub which had probably been a cinema at some stage. There was a kiosk at the top of the stairs where a couple of bouncers were guarding the door whilst a woman gathered the readies from the punters.

I was slightly pished and when I climbed the top stair I tripped and fell through the door of the kiosk and landed on the lap of the woman collecting the money. In the process of trying to brake my fall I grabbed the closest object to me which happened to be the till. I opened my eyes to find myself on top of the cashier withh the till resting safely on my lap.

I thought the bouncers were gonnae kill me but they surprisingly helped me to my feet asking me if I was ok and if I was hurt. I told them I was fine and they sorted out the till then took a tenner from me for entrance to the dancing. When I was waiting to be served at the bar the same two bouncers grabbed me from behind and huckled me down a corridor and papped me head first through the doors and onto a Manchester Street.

Thank f**k the alcohol deadened the pain of being flung out. I had to stay drunk all weekend as I didn't have any painkillers.

[North Sea Saint]

The Drift Inn in Aberdeen, even the baurmaids have got tattoo's oan their foreheid

[Howard Hughes in BlueSuedeShoes]

The Drift Inn in Aberdeen, even the baurmaids have got tattoo's oan their foreheid

It'll be your good self who can confirm if they have tattoos on the backs of their heids as well.

[North Sea Saint]

It'll be your good self who can confirm if they have tattoos on the backs of their heids as well.

Correctamundo, I'll take ye in next week, staying in sheepland Monday Tuesday and Wednesday

[Howard Hughes in BlueSuedeShoes]

Oh fúck, I'm trying to keep off the drink the noo. Had too many nights oot recently. Ach, bigger it, ye've convinced me.

[St. Sid]

Most were in my monged out days so the names evade but:

1. Pub in Torry in Aberdeen...offshore colleagues local..it was like a gold cygnet ring exchange shop as everytime someone got their c"nt kicked in they were removed of all jewellery and thrown out of the back door into an alley. Thankfully the colleague was doing most of the jewellery removing so I got through the escapade unscaved. Most fights in a pub I've ever witnessed in one night.

2. Bird in the Hand, Johnstone....an old local that always had a "somethings going to happen" feel to it. There was never any handbags, if it kicked off it generally went a bit John Wayne movie style free for all.

3. Club in London.....I was on a corporate gig with Microsoft back in the 90's. ABout 4 in the morning somewhere in west london I stumbled on a club with a big blackfella on the door - full-on 70's agro afro...he told me it was a black club only - I said nae bother and waltzed in....the whole place stopped dancing and the sharp intake of breath from the clubbers managed to drown out the thumping and very excellent music. I announced my arrival, stated my intent of having a wee bounce in their club and thanked them for their hospitality.....massive dreadlocked f"k'r wonders up and just as the "aw f"ck naw" thought was mustering, the big chap handed me a fairly chunky spliff....turned out a magic night.

4. Dalmellington Pub....Back in the 80's I had the misfortune to find myself in Dalmellington for a few weeks. I was warned not to go into the pub by colleagues but fancying a real pint ditched the advice. This was in the middle of the miners strikes...I didn't even get to the bar when the entire place erupted at my presence....I saved myself from the Frankenstein-village-style mutants by running up a hill to where I new a colleague was snogging a local bird. Poor wegie c"nt got the kicking as I watched from the top of the hill.

5. Invergordon Pub....Went through on a Saturday night after an all nighter on the Friday in sneck. Guest of a big gingy Orcadian f"k'r who was a bit of a drugged up Erik the Viking character. There was fighting in the street before we even got to the pub. A real dichotomy of a place....one half were junky funsters with a real flavour for pleasure, the other half had that local never been out the town limited and indecipherable vocabulary and the aggresive nature that comes with the failure to communicate and inability to breed outside their brothers and sisters. A testosterone fuelled wee place and everything was a test of testicular fortitude. Pleasant enough night out and an experience but not one I'd care to repeat.

[HSS]

Most were in my monged out days so the names evade but:

1. Pub in Torry in Aberdeen...offshore colleagues local..it was like a gold cygnet ring exchange shop as everytime someone got their c"nt kicked in they were removed of all jewellery and thrown out of the back door into an alley. Thankfully the colleague was doing most of the jewellery removing so I got through the escapade unscaved. Most fights in a pub I've ever witnessed in one night.

2. Bird in the Hand, Johnstone....an old local that always had a "somethings going to happen" feel to it. There was never any handbags, if it kicked off it generally went a bit John Wayne movie style free for all.

3. Club in London.....I was on a corporate gig with Microsoft back in the 90's. ABout 4 in the morning somewhere in west london I stumbled on a club with a big blackfella on the door - full-on 70's agro afro...he told me it was a black club only - I said nae bother and waltzed in....the whole place stopped dancing and the sharp intake of breath from the clubbers managed to drown out the thumping and very excellent music. I announced my arrival, stated my intent of having a wee bounce in their club and thanked them for their hospitality.....massive dreadlocked f"k'r wonders up and just as the "aw f"ck naw" thought was mustering, the big chap handed me a fairly chunky spliff....turned out a magic night.

4. Dalmellington Pub....Back in the 80's I had the misfortune to find myself in Dalmellington for a few weeks. I was warned not to go into the pub by colleagues but fancying a real pint ditched the advice. This was in the middle of the miners strikes...I didn't even get to the bar when the entire place erupted at my presence....I saved myself from the Frankenstein-village-style mutants by running up a hill to where I new a colleague was snogging a local bird. Poor wegie c"nt got the kicking as I watched from the top of the hill.

5. Invergordon Pub....Went through on a Saturday night after an all nighter on the Friday in sneck. Guest of a big gingy Orcadian f"k'r who was a bit of a drugged up Erik the Viking character. There was fighting in the street before we even got to the pub. A real dichotomy of a place....one half were junky funsters with a real flavour for pleasure, the other half had that local never been out the town limited and indecipherable vocabulary and the aggresive nature that comes with the failure to communicate and inability to breed outside their brothers and sisters. A testosterone fuelled wee place and everything was a test of testicular fortitude. Pleasant enough night out and an experience but not one I'd care to repeat.

Strange how the smell of hash on the JBs bus used to give him a whitey.