Flatfooted, & fast with the flatfoots.

"You may as well just hightail it on shanks' pony mate" This was sound advice from the carpark staff at the Wayside Tavern.

The car had arrived at speed bouncing accross the kerb and scattering the crowd as if they were chooks, before drifting to a halt in a parking bay. The driver, upon alighting revealed himself to be belligerent and in an advanced state of intoxication (or worse).

In coarse language he informed Wayside Tavern staff that he would not be leaving, then exuding an air of violence proceeded to the beer garden & sat down, completely ignoring directives from the staff to leave.

When the police arrived his belligerent manner did not alter. Asked to provide a specimen of breath he refused in no uncertain manner.

This is about the point the bracelets were put on, only 40 seconds had elapsed between the police tapping him on the shoulder and handcuffing him.

Forty seconds is close to the fastest time Mine Host has seen anyone talk themselves into gaol.

An eye popping experience

At the far reaches of the lounge bar in the Wayside Tavern the manager was cornered, by three angry men, total strangers all and oozing menace.

Their intention was to "get" him as retaliation for the eviction a few minutes earlier of the 4th member of their party.

With superior numbers, apparent superior physical condition, psychological preparation, and with youth on their side, the ambush was sprung. They announced their intention in coarse language, positioned themselves with one on each side (the wall being the 4th side) and made their move.

The manager was no slouch, as would be indicated by the fact after a 20 year career in the cabaret (nightclub) industry he still wore a fully tied (not a clip-on) necktie to work every shift.

Effortlessly, but with no holding back, he got stuck into the trio, twisting thumbs brutally, using catapault force to kick crotches, poking eyes, using elbows to drive the wind from lungs & so on.

The entire incident took only a few seconds, the tie remained immaculate and he wasn't breathing heavily.

Seeing the (brief) melee Mine Host & two other staff whizzed accross the room, just as the manager completed establishing his supremacy.

However something seemed odd. While two were prone on the floor, conscious but unable to move, the third of the assailants was upright but hunched over in extreme agitation.

In a mind numbing flash, we all saw at once that an eye was popped out, hanging loose on his cheek like a marble on a string.

Time stood still.

Then, proving (as always) that if you have enough people around, you will have one of everything, a nearby customer strode over, got Mr Eyeball to stand up straight, positioned the eye high on the cheek, and with the heel of his hand calmly bumped it back into place (as if it were a trackball going back into a computer mouse).

The three assailants gingerly got to their feet and equally as gingerly stumbled away.

Nobody moved or said anything for a while. Then the manager, unruffled as always, noted that the training he had received many years before, on how to defend himself when unarmed, had taught him to poke into eye sockets, but there had been no mention of what to do if the eye popped out, and it was "quite handy" that the unknown patron happened to be on the spot to save the day.

Then we all returned to our work as if nothing had happened.

Ambidextrous:Equally dopey with either hand

Observing the kitchenhand, male early 20's, was a most excruciating experience for Mine Host.

The lad, though married with a child, and thus presumably somewhat more motivated toward some energy at work, still moved too slow to justify his hourly rate. Potatos were taking one minute each to be peeled.

Grabbing a potato peeler, Mine Host barked "Watch this!" and whit whit whit peeled a spud fast enough for each peeling to be still airborne as the next was coming off.

"That's how you must do it" stated Mine Host, putting the peeler down.

"I can't do that" came from the kitchenhand. Mine Host paused on his way out of the kitchen...

"You did that right handed, I'm left handed, so I can't do it that fast"

Silently Mine Host grabbed the peeler, and with his left hand peeled another potato, every bit as fast as he had the previous one.

Mental images rotated through Mine Hosts' head of how the kitchenhand would have fared with any of Mine Hosts' old bosses, all of whom would (and sometimes did) flatten a junior staff for flippancy less than that.

The kitchenhand could feel that the air was too tense for a second dose of flippancy, however as Mine Host departed the kitchen after the second (and indisputable) demonstration he distincly heard the word "Nazi" muttered under the kitchenhand's breath.

There was a pause as Mine Host considered returning and pushing the issue. Then he considered that the prick was too stupid to bother clouting, and in the short time until he could find a replacement at least the potatos would be peeled at a more acceptable speed.

Unrefusable Offer

A fairly standard eviction. Four male staff and Mine Host walk toward the door, preceded by the evictee, much in the fashion of beaters driving game into the open.

In the foyer the evictee stops, turns toward the lineup of men facing him, and speaks:

"Why don't you get a couple more fellers, make it a bit more even when I clean youse all up?"

All to script so far. The evictee goes on in the same vein, preening his macho credentials to himself to compensate for being called on his behaviour then walked out of the premises.

Then Smithy, a driveway attendant and new on the staff, speaks, very quietly:

"How about if all these fellers go back inside, then I'll hit you two times."

Suddenly there is real menace in the air, a marked contrast to the evictee's recently displayed fake machismo. Smithy is about 30 and has "the look" which comes from long term successful involvement in street violence.

"One of those hits will break your jaw in half. Can't say if it'll be the first or second hit, but I guarantee I'll snap your jaw."

Brief pause as the evictee summed up this offer, then wordlessly he turned and briskly walked off, not slowing, not looking back.

Real menace, when challenged, carries an unspoken promise of grievous injury.

Real menace cannot be faked.

Throwing out the Rubbish

An acquaintance of Mine Host recently returned from several months sojurn in a warm sunny overseas destination.

A memento (pictured below) was presented to him by his employer.

His girlfriend promptly and deliberately disposed of the memento into a garbage skip, from whence it was transported along with tonnes of other stuff to a landfill.

She isn't his girlfriend anymore, nor does she deserve to be any else's.