Tuesday, October 10, 2006

The Time the Pub got Raided

Some moons ago I (for my sins) was helping to run a pub in the wilds of Surrey. It was known in the area for being a bit rough sometimes and we'd been doing our bit to help the local PubWatch team and so, when an almighty fight had occurred which ended up with my then-partner-in-crime and myself being assaulted* and a lot of the regulars being barred until further notice.
One of the main culprits was a local bully who had grown up doing his best to intimidate people and had no plans to change his ways. One of the main people who wanted revenge on said bully, was a police officer who had been a 'victim' as a child, and was now after the bastards guts for garters. I said I'd do my best to help get the bully charged with the assault, and he in return said that they would do what they could to help us. Hurrah, I thought as I cleaned away the smashed glasses.
Anyhoo. The pub was very, very quiet for a couple of weeks due to 50% of the locals not being allowed in, and slowly we were beginning to get more of the nicer customers coming back to us, as they'd heard we'd got the shi*e out.
But the time of the pub raid, came about when we'd heard from the police officer that a new licensing officer had been installed that had been told about the problems we'd had, and was going to come round one night to make sure all was well. We wouldn't be told when though, just a surprise visit. Fine by us!
So. Picture the scene; a very quiet Tuesday night. A fire blazes in the hearth, the rain lashes down outside, and the only customer we'd had over the course of the evening was a new person, who seemed very peaceful and sat at the end of the bar nursing a couple of pints with whiskey-mac chasers to keep the cold out.
A regular chap, aged about seventy, came in at his usual time of 10:30 for his two pints of bitter, and we chatted quietly over a game of cards.
I served the other chap another whiskey-mac and also chatted to him.
All was calm.
All was quiet.
All was peaceful.
At 11:18 we were all set to close up and go to bed. The old chap was just putting his jacket on, and I was going over to get the other chap's glass, when I noticed he'd nodded off at the end of the bar.
At 11:19, the door of the pub was slammed open. A WPC entered, and shouted out "Right, it's 11:20! Glasses down, and get out everybody, NOW!"
W, T and indeed F was going on? I thought...
The then-partner-in-crime came into the bar to see what was occurring, just as a few more police officers came bounding in the door at the far end of the pub.
"Is this a raid or something?" he asked, trying not to smile.
"Yes, it is" she replied. "it is now past closing time, you still have customers on the premises, and that one at the end looks drunk. You know it's against the licensing law to have drunk persons in a public house, don't you?"
The ex, old chap and I exchanged bemused glances.
"Right" she said "I'm going to do something about this" and went over to wake up Mr. Snoozy.
Big mistake.
"You, wake up! Put that glass down and get out!" she yelled in his ear.
Mr. Snoozy stirred. He lifted his head and focused his eyes on the officer.

And then, with a roar of "Fu*k off, copper!" Swung his fist which was still holding the glass with the whiskey-mac in it, into her face.

It took three of the other officers to restrain him and get him out.
The old chap went peacefully as usual, although laughing rather more.
The outcome of the incident was the the WPC was told that she could have handled the situation a little better. She was transferred to another district shortly after.
It was probably the worst, and most futile pub raid, ever.
We never saw Mr. Snoozy again.