Although I occasionally complain about my local pub, there are times when I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Even crap management can't stop the old crowd having a good time and I never know from one day to the next what's going to happen there or who I'm going to meet.
For example, I was there last night with the ex, and a friend of his came to sit with us. The friend was joined by some friends of his including a woman who looked incredibly familiar. She recognized me too, and after playing twenty questions we realized that we'd both gone to the same youth club some twenty five years ago and spent a wonderful hour reminiscing about old times and talking about who we still kept in touch with.
There's also the strong possibility that a random nutter will walk in to provide the entertainment for the evening such as the 'psychic' the other day who informed me in Portuguese that I had strong connections to the mafia, would find love with a 'bad man' who I would change with the power of my love and then go to live in Africa, before telling me about the fun he had working with Osama Bin Laden.
Priceless.
And of course there's the fun to be had with those who are drunk.
A few weeks ago I was once again there with the ex, and at the next table were a couple we know. The chap wanted to go home and eat, but his missus was on a roll and wanted to stay and carrying on drinking. She was already three sheets to the wind so we said we'd keep an eye on her for him. I went to talk to a friend and was told off for trying to 'chat him up' which we thought amusing, but then she disappeared into the back bar for a while.
I was about to go and see if she'd passed out in the loos, but then she staggered back with two rather nervous looking men in tow.
I was on 'hello'ing' terms with both of them and as they sat down with us the woman informed us that they were there to 'have a good time'.
The ex and the chaps and I exchanged curious smiles at this comment, with all of us wondering WTF she was going to do next.
After yet another double vodka went down her neck, she turned to the nearest chap to her and told him to give her a kiss. Knowing that she was a) pissed, and b) engaged to another man, the chap politely declined which caused her to start haranguing the other bloke for a snog.
He also declined which set her off on a rant about men not fancying her and why can't they just have a good time with her.
At that, I told her that some men do have scruples and don't want to take advantage of a woman just for the hell of it because it's offered to them on a plate.
'Like who?' she asked, so I said 'Him, him and him' for a start.
The men all nodded their agreement at that point, but this only set her off on a wailing of self-pity and bemoaning the fact that they all simply didn't fancy her.
'I just want a snog!' she slurred, 'Why won't anybody snog me? Am I that ugly?'
By this time she was getting rather loud and the rest of the bar flies were starting to stare, so I did the only thing I could think of to shut her up and snogged her myself.

The men fell about laughing, as did the rest of the pub, but it did the trick. She was 'gobsmacked' to say the least, but she didn't ask for a snog again, and I don't think she will in a hurry.

Yep. My local might have crap management but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else sometimes.