Rough pub stories
Discussion
StevieBee said:
Plymouth.
My late cousin and I were great mates despite him being 8 years older than me and I have him to thank for my introduction to beer and the boys night out.
I recall a holiday there when I was about 15 or 16 and ending up in a pub within him in Union Street that I think might have once been a theatre. All I can remember is a sloping floor and someone just having a piss on it and people slipping up and over on it.
I think there were some other properly rough pubs there as well. But truly great times! You'd get 'argy' with someone but be best mates by the time you got to Captain Jaspers at 2am!
You'll be reminiscing about Diamond Lil's next My late cousin and I were great mates despite him being 8 years older than me and I have him to thank for my introduction to beer and the boys night out.
I recall a holiday there when I was about 15 or 16 and ending up in a pub within him in Union Street that I think might have once been a theatre. All I can remember is a sloping floor and someone just having a piss on it and people slipping up and over on it.
I think there were some other properly rough pubs there as well. But truly great times! You'd get 'argy' with someone but be best mates by the time you got to Captain Jaspers at 2am!
https://whatpub.com/pubs/REA/READIN0570/northumber...
This one for me. As a student at reading uni me and a couple of mates went in for a pint at lunchtime. We got our drinks, turned round and 4 or 5 blokes , who I think must have been roofers or scaffolders or something faced us weilding pool cues in an extremely threatening way. They told us to get the f
k out of the pub and not to come back.
It was extraordinary really. And we were very much of one mind that there should be no repeat visit.
This one for me. As a student at reading uni me and a couple of mates went in for a pint at lunchtime. We got our drinks, turned round and 4 or 5 blokes , who I think must have been roofers or scaffolders or something faced us weilding pool cues in an extremely threatening way. They told us to get the f
k out of the pub and not to come back.It was extraordinary really. And we were very much of one mind that there should be no repeat visit.
21TonyK said:
There used to be a proper bikers pub in Bracknell near Princess Square? Anyone remember that one? I used to be a regular on a Saturday night after working in Dixons aged 15 in 85/6.
Also visited a place near/behind? the Old Vic several times. Can;t believe I got served on school trips at 14!!!
Forgot to add the half hour I spent under a settle behind several strangers with my snakebite hiding me during a raid in the bracknell one and the stabbings at the one in Crown Hill??
Back in my late teens and early 20s I had a friend who lived near Bracknell. He was into martial arts and was not to be messed with, but when I suggested we went for a drink pointing to the Red Lion pub I could see from near the cinema, he said we could go there if we didn't mind coming out missing teeth. It was apparently so rough that the toughest guy I knew wouldn't set foot inside!Also visited a place near/behind? the Old Vic several times. Can;t believe I got served on school trips at 14!!!
Forgot to add the half hour I spent under a settle behind several strangers with my snakebite hiding me during a raid in the bracknell one and the stabbings at the one in Crown Hill??
Found a pic on a website called ClosedPubs and it doesn't look that rough considering the town it's located in - nor did it back in 1995...
LunarOne said:
21TonyK said:
There used to be a proper bikers pub in Bracknell near Princess Square? Anyone remember that one? I used to be a regular on a Saturday night after working in Dixons aged 15 in 85/6.
Also visited a place near/behind? the Old Vic several times. Can;t believe I got served on school trips at 14!!!
Forgot to add the half hour I spent under a settle behind several strangers with my snakebite hiding me during a raid in the bracknell one and the stabbings at the one in Crown Hill??
Back in my late teens and early 20s I had a friend who lived near Bracknell. He was into martial arts and was not to be messed with, but when I suggested we went for a drink pointing to the Red Lion pub I could see from near the cinema, he said we could go there if we didn't mind coming out missing teeth. It was apparently so rough that the toughest guy I knew wouldn't set foot inside!Also visited a place near/behind? the Old Vic several times. Can;t believe I got served on school trips at 14!!!
Forgot to add the half hour I spent under a settle behind several strangers with my snakebite hiding me during a raid in the bracknell one and the stabbings at the one in Crown Hill??
Found a pic on a website called ClosedPubs and it doesn't look that rough considering the town it's located in - nor did it back in 1995...
Properly rough Years ago, we used to have lock ins in a council estate pub. We were all about 20 at the time. There was an older married woman who used to drink there (I'd say she was mid 30s), and stayed behind with us too on these nights.
A few of the lads used to go back to hers and have sex with her, whilst her husband hid in the wardrobe and watched.
A few of the lads used to go back to hers and have sex with her, whilst her husband hid in the wardrobe and watched.
Iwantafusca said:
Stratties in gorgie was a roughish pub. Use to pop in at 6am with my mate after we had finished nights at the RIE. Always people in who looked like it was home! Never any bother tho. Someone would always come in selling bacon/steak etc from the scotmid across the road...lol. Nothing beats drinking in the morning!
OH used to live not far from Stratties - she went jogging early one morning past it c 7am or so when it was open, and made the mistake of glancing at the women standing outside having a fag - "don't fking look at me you posh bh" was the advice my OH was given by her 
On another occasion, a friend of my OH who was the scruffy sort normally fine with "community" pubs tried to go in for a drink while out walking his German Pointer. Barmen or punter looked at the dog and told him he was not welcome.
Not because they didn't allow dogs - just that they did not allow "posh dogs".
The proper dive pub is a dying breed now sadly I always liked a few beers in "proper" pubs prior to hitting the clubs in the days when I had a social life. It always seemed much more appealing than trotting round a few polished chain bars.
Where I live in West Yorkshire the flat roof pub/WMC scene is thriving. There are such establishments in most decent sized villages. If you like nothing etter than a pint in a room so brightly lit you could use it as a car photography studio why not give them a try? Just get one of the locals to sign you in as a guest, Pay your £1.80 and grab a Pint of Stella. I can't say I know of our local ones being violent or anything. Solid regulars (we are talking same people every day) and a turn on a Friday/Saturday most have turned into more family friendly places in recent years too.
I remember being in a pub somewhere in Nottingham near the train station when a chap came round selling meat from a sports holdall.
Where I live in West Yorkshire the flat roof pub/WMC scene is thriving. There are such establishments in most decent sized villages. If you like nothing etter than a pint in a room so brightly lit you could use it as a car photography studio why not give them a try? Just get one of the locals to sign you in as a guest, Pay your £1.80 and grab a Pint of Stella. I can't say I know of our local ones being violent or anything. Solid regulars (we are talking same people every day) and a turn on a Friday/Saturday most have turned into more family friendly places in recent years too.
I remember being in a pub somewhere in Nottingham near the train station when a chap came round selling meat from a sports holdall.
I should like to nominate The Brassmoulders Arms, that was in Church Street, Hunslet, just south east of Leeds city centre.
I was living in a rented two-up-two-down mid-terrace on the Longroyd - just on the other side of the M1 motorway from this pub, but conveniently connected by a footbridge that spanned the highway. The "Brassy" became my local for a year or more.
This was a very traditional Leeds boozer - nothing fancy and with a pretty rough and ready clientele.
There was a main saloon to the right, as you entered and a snug to the left, separated by an island bar so that you could see into the snug from the other side.
This pub had two very major things going for it. It was SO close to Tetley's south Leeds brewery that the ales were delivered by horse-drawn dray and just rolled down the barrel drop in the pavement outside. The hand-pulled Tet was utterly divine - always fresh, smooth and creamy, with a head that stuck to the glass all the way down. Additionally, the Landlord was an ex-boxer who didn't stand for any nonsense - which was ironic, because nonsense was a commodity of which there was plenty in that establishment.
Disagreements and petty grudges had a tendency to quickly escalate into fully fledged, knocked-down, drag-out pitched battles, which invariably culminated in the rendering unconscious of the key protagonists by the pugilistically gifted bar-keep. I did my best to avoid any conflict in there, being bereft of neck tattoos and such-like - but one day - and inevitably, I suppose, if you spend enough time in a place like this, trouble found me.
I was in for the Sunday lunchtime session (and to try my hand at the meat raffle). I was in the bar, but casually cast my eye over into the snug. There was a guy at the bar supping a pint from a sleever (a pint glass with no handle for the less alcoholic). What was remarkable was that this chap was holding his pint with a hand that had a thumb, but without any fingers - so - just a semi-mutilated hand, expertly steering a pint of foamy Tetley bitter. I have to admit to being slightly transfixed by this, to the point that I failed to notice that the digitally compromised gent had clocked me staring at him - and this apparently irked him somewhat.
His lack of digits did not impair his ability to quickly transport himself from snug to saloon - at which point he thrust his gnarled hand right in my face and invited me to "Take a good forking look", or something similar. Despite my overt attempt to apologize for causing any unintended offense, he proceeded to beat me about the head and face with fingerless stump.
Glasses were tumbled, pork scratchings flew hither and thither and I ended-up flat on my arse among the fag-ends and spilled mild. Disappointingly, the landlord failed to intervene - perhaps feeling that, because I had two fully functioning hands, it kind of evened things out.
What put the tin-lid on it was in the aftermath, my aggressor came back over to apologize for over-reacting and held-out is deformity and invited me to 'shake on it'. Having your hand grasped firmly by, essentially a thumb and plenty of willpower is quite an experience.
Sadly and due to the march of time and progress The Brassmoulders is no more - but it sure was a "Rough Pub" that I (mostly) enjoyed immensely.
I was living in a rented two-up-two-down mid-terrace on the Longroyd - just on the other side of the M1 motorway from this pub, but conveniently connected by a footbridge that spanned the highway. The "Brassy" became my local for a year or more.
This was a very traditional Leeds boozer - nothing fancy and with a pretty rough and ready clientele.
There was a main saloon to the right, as you entered and a snug to the left, separated by an island bar so that you could see into the snug from the other side.
This pub had two very major things going for it. It was SO close to Tetley's south Leeds brewery that the ales were delivered by horse-drawn dray and just rolled down the barrel drop in the pavement outside. The hand-pulled Tet was utterly divine - always fresh, smooth and creamy, with a head that stuck to the glass all the way down. Additionally, the Landlord was an ex-boxer who didn't stand for any nonsense - which was ironic, because nonsense was a commodity of which there was plenty in that establishment.
Disagreements and petty grudges had a tendency to quickly escalate into fully fledged, knocked-down, drag-out pitched battles, which invariably culminated in the rendering unconscious of the key protagonists by the pugilistically gifted bar-keep. I did my best to avoid any conflict in there, being bereft of neck tattoos and such-like - but one day - and inevitably, I suppose, if you spend enough time in a place like this, trouble found me.
I was in for the Sunday lunchtime session (and to try my hand at the meat raffle). I was in the bar, but casually cast my eye over into the snug. There was a guy at the bar supping a pint from a sleever (a pint glass with no handle for the less alcoholic). What was remarkable was that this chap was holding his pint with a hand that had a thumb, but without any fingers - so - just a semi-mutilated hand, expertly steering a pint of foamy Tetley bitter. I have to admit to being slightly transfixed by this, to the point that I failed to notice that the digitally compromised gent had clocked me staring at him - and this apparently irked him somewhat.
His lack of digits did not impair his ability to quickly transport himself from snug to saloon - at which point he thrust his gnarled hand right in my face and invited me to "Take a good forking look", or something similar. Despite my overt attempt to apologize for causing any unintended offense, he proceeded to beat me about the head and face with fingerless stump.
Glasses were tumbled, pork scratchings flew hither and thither and I ended-up flat on my arse among the fag-ends and spilled mild. Disappointingly, the landlord failed to intervene - perhaps feeling that, because I had two fully functioning hands, it kind of evened things out.
What put the tin-lid on it was in the aftermath, my aggressor came back over to apologize for over-reacting and held-out is deformity and invited me to 'shake on it'. Having your hand grasped firmly by, essentially a thumb and plenty of willpower is quite an experience.
Sadly and due to the march of time and progress The Brassmoulders is no more - but it sure was a "Rough Pub" that I (mostly) enjoyed immensely.
Edited by Matt Harper on Sunday 19th July 16:53
Longwool said:
StevieBee said:
Plymouth.
My late cousin and I were great mates despite him being 8 years older than me and I have him to thank for my introduction to beer and the boys night out.
I recall a holiday there when I was about 15 or 16 and ending up in a pub within him in Union Street that I think might have once been a theatre. All I can remember is a sloping floor and someone just having a piss on it and people slipping up and over on it.
I think there were some other properly rough pubs there as well. But truly great times! You'd get 'argy' with someone but be best mates by the time you got to Captain Jaspers at 2am!
You'll be reminiscing about Diamond Lil's next My late cousin and I were great mates despite him being 8 years older than me and I have him to thank for my introduction to beer and the boys night out.
I recall a holiday there when I was about 15 or 16 and ending up in a pub within him in Union Street that I think might have once been a theatre. All I can remember is a sloping floor and someone just having a piss on it and people slipping up and over on it.
I think there were some other properly rough pubs there as well. But truly great times! You'd get 'argy' with someone but be best mates by the time you got to Captain Jaspers at 2am!
I wouldn't say it was particularly rough, but I did see a good fight at Sgt Peppers in Newcastle city centre. I don't exactly know what caused it, but a very short bloke (probably about 5'4") who looked a bit rough. but you wouldn't say particularly hard, and his even shorter missus seemed to get into a dispute with the bouncers. There were quite a few bouncers but this guy and his wife wiped the floor with the lot of them. Was almost like watching a jackie chan movie, which was quite frankly hilarious, but then you realised the bouncers were getting quite the pasting. It did eventually spill outside, and I'm not sure what happened from there, but time got called early that night
BrabusMog said:
LunarOne said:
21TonyK said:
There used to be a proper bikers pub in Bracknell near Princess Square? Anyone remember that one? I used to be a regular on a Saturday night after working in Dixons aged 15 in 85/6.
Also visited a place near/behind? the Old Vic several times. Can;t believe I got served on school trips at 14!!!
Forgot to add the half hour I spent under a settle behind several strangers with my snakebite hiding me during a raid in the bracknell one and the stabbings at the one in Crown Hill??
Back in my late teens and early 20s I had a friend who lived near Bracknell. He was into martial arts and was not to be messed with, but when I suggested we went for a drink pointing to the Red Lion pub I could see from near the cinema, he said we could go there if we didn't mind coming out missing teeth. It was apparently so rough that the toughest guy I knew wouldn't set foot inside!Also visited a place near/behind? the Old Vic several times. Can;t believe I got served on school trips at 14!!!
Forgot to add the half hour I spent under a settle behind several strangers with my snakebite hiding me during a raid in the bracknell one and the stabbings at the one in Crown Hill??
Found a pic on a website called ClosedPubs and it doesn't look that rough considering the town it's located in - nor did it back in 1995...
Properly rough Had to visit thereonce and the comms lasy was a real looker,for her age 40+ish
Her msate was a bit older but a figure that sais, i look better naked, She asked me out for a drink there must have been a 20yr difference, I did but bottled out the rest of the evening One of those , 'What if' moments that stays with you
bigpriest said:
Not quite as 'shooty' as Brass Handles but opposite Salford College of Technology (now part of Salford Uni) there were three of Salford's finest establishments - The Woolpack, The Flemish Weaver and another one. I went in the other one once and the next week it had closed, been set alight and turned into a squat. These pictures of The Woolpack are pretty much how it looked when open. Not as bad as it looks but who'd be stupid enough to go in and find out? 
https://manchesterestatepubs.wordpress.com/2017/04...
Used to drink in The Woolpack almost every night. https://manchesterestatepubs.wordpress.com/2017/04...
Amazing entertainment from the in-house Tom Jones wannabe and a halfway decent pub quiz.
Locals were always pleasant enough with never any trouble coming our way.
Landlord had an N plate Jag XJR at the time too so business couldn’t have been too bad
The old Heaton Hotel in Newcastle was a dreadful place, not the sort of place you'd ever want to go for a drink. It's floor sloped downwards from men's toilets, as though the whole building was on a slant, meaning the piss on the floor in there used to run out into the bar area, which stunk to high heaven.
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