One of the pubs we used to drink in quite regularly was called the General Havelock. It was in the high
road and not a bad place to go on a Friday or Saturday evening to begin the night's drinking.
We were standing at the bar enjoying our first or maybe second pint when suddenly an empty Bacardi
bottle came crashing through the plate glass widow right behind us. We ducked and the handful of
regulars who were drinking in the pub at the time charged out of the pub shouting and went off running
down the high road in hot pursuit of the culprits.
Graham and I straightened up and looked at the barman. He explained that there was a mafia-style feud
going on with another pub down the road. Our beer glasses were full of pieces of glass from the broken
window. We ordered two more pints.

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