Incident at the Queens Arms

(Warning : contains explicit language)

Incident at the Queens Arms

“Ten minutes”

…come on you lads, you all know the drill, last drinks, we’re closing in ten minutes,” boomed the barman’s voice as he shouted out across the smoke-filled room.

“Jock come on, no” came the collective groan that echoed out from the drunken crowd.

With this announcement, every conversation seemed to stop as a mass of bodies turned and surged in one wave towards the bar.

“Hey Bill, it’s your bloody shout” yelled Roger from the back of the group, “hurry up and grab another round before Jock shuts us down”, and with that Bill reluctantly turned and began to push his way through the crowd as it moved towards the bar.

“Nine pints”

…yelled Bill as loud as he could over the top of the heads in front of him, as he continued his determined push forward, “quickly Jock hurry it up will ya mate, it’s been a thirsty day and the lads are mighty restless still, you know what they’re like”

“Eight minutes”

…you have eight blooming minutes to drinks nine pints, you lot are hopeless, I'm telling you, eight minutes and those doors will be closing and I want you all to be out here” shouted Jock trying to make himself heard over the noise of the other patrons trying to place their orders.

“Well come on then, hurry it up then” said Bill smiling wryly “it’ll all be good, you know we’ve never let you down before”

Rolling his eyes in disbelief the bartender deftly pulled the pints and then lined them all up on the bar in front of Bill.

“Seven packets”

…said Bill pointing towards the potato crisps “give us seven packets of crisps also”.

Jock looked at him in utter amazement and said “what, are you kidding me, you aren’t here for bloody dinner you idiot, take your pints now and fuck off.

Pulling out his wallet in feigned disgust, Bill flicked some notes in Jock’s direction and ever so gently placing the pints onto a tray, he carefully backed away from the bar into the heaving crowd.

“Six minutes”

…came the call from the bar “and then I want you all out, and hear me, there better be no trouble from any of you lads tonight, you’ve all had enough of a warning”

Turning away from the crowd Jock walked to the back of the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey, and as he threw it back, he thought to himself ‘I’m getting too old for this game I really am’.

“Five four”

…was the score in our favour” said Eddie reenacting the days game play to his mates, who were unfortunately placed directly in Bills path as he making his way precariously back to the group, “and with only minutes to go, and us winning there was no fucking way I was going to let them score that goal”.

Taking a stance like he was in the goal mouth, and moving side to side, Eddie suddenly threw his hands out as if to stop that imaginary ball from scoring, and in doing so, clipped the tray Bill was holding from underneath just as he was pushing his way past.

This action sent the tray, and the nine pints of beer, sailing in perfect unison, up in an arc through the air where they momentarily stopped mid-flight, and then slowly began their spectacular tumble downwards, showering the heads of three unsuspecting bystanders with Bills precious ale.

“Four minutes”

…to go before we’ve got to get out of here, and where are our bloody beers” said Roger waiting impatiently in the group for Bills return.

“He’s like this every fucking time it’s his shout, knowing him, he’s probably taken off out the door already so he didn’t have to pay.

Looking around the room in the hope of spotting him, he noticed the crowd off in the distance surge upwards and then outwards, and then like a shock wave the noise of the shouting reached Rogers ears.

“Ah for shits sake fellas” said Roger “we’ve got trouble”.

All heads in the group swiveled in the direction that Roger was looking, and they all exclaimed at the same time “Bill”.

“Three of us”

…you stupid fucking pillock, you’ve drowned the three of us” yelled one of the men dripping with beer as he let loose with his tirade in Bills direction.

Looking hopelessly towards the person who had just bumped into him, Bill was met with a “ah sorry mate” from Eddie, who then casually turned back to his friend, and continued to tell his story where he had left off, as if nothing at all had happened.

But Bill was having none of this, and as he reached out for Eddies shoulder, and turned him around, the only words he managed to get out were “hey you owe me nine…” before he was set upon by the three angry beer-soaked patrons.

“Two minutes”

…to go…” was all Jock could say before his voice stopped midsentence and then he roared “what the absolute fuck, this is all we need” he exclaimed, as the melee broke out before his very eyes.

Fists began flying and pints of the drinkers once precious beer, now become projectiles that sailed through the air looking for their prospective targets.

Those that were not involved in the fracas, including Bills mates, took this opportunity to down their last mouthfuls and make haste for the nearest exits, desperately not wanting to be caught up in the drama that was unfolding.

“There’s always some fucker who’s got to ruin the night for everyone else” sighed Jock jumping over the bar and wading into the crowd, “call the coppers and get them here as quick as you can” he yelled over his shoulder as he angrily pushed aside anyone in his way as he stayed laser focused on the trouble maker.

“One paddy wagon”

…came the voice questioning over the radio, “can you repeat you only need the one paddy wagon at the Queens Arms, you don’t require backup, base out” “no backup required love” said the officer “we are the only unit here, and the culprit has already been apprehended and we’ll be bringing him into the station shortly, unit out”.

Slamming the rear door of the divvy van, the officer with a sigh climbed into the front of the vehicle and turned to his partner and said “what is wrong with people these days, why can’t you just go out to the pub and have a quiet pint without having to start a bloody fight with someone, it still baffles me”.

His speech was cut short by muffled yelling and cursing coming from the rear of the paddy wagon, banging his fist on the back of the cab the officer yelled, “shut up back there or you’ll get the special treatment back at the station”

As the paddy wagon made its way out of the pub carpark and headed off down the Main Street, a dazed and confused face appeared in the rear window, it was Bill, his hair all slick with beer, and his mouth moving in silent protest as the vehicle slowly disappeared down the road and out of sight.