I can honestly say I’ve never seen as much broken glass on a pub floor as in Yates in Blackpool.
I ordered a spaghetti carbonara in there once. Not one of my usual choices in a pub but I just fancied it. The barman looked at me like I'd ordered a dolphin burger. I had to get the menu to show him the item in question as he seemed never to have heard of the dish before.
That was the same trip where me and my dad had a sweepstake on the way up on how long after arrival it would be before we spotted the first drunken Scotsman. We parked up at that big car park near the ground and without a word of a lie, just as we were walking out of the car park gate some Glaswegian p1sshead came lurching over to us and asked us something. I say "something" because it's hard enough to understand a Weegie at the best of times, but that's doubly true when they are slurring all over the place. We both smiled politely and said "sorry mate, no idea" or words to that effect.
He muttered something and wandered off and my dad said "Did you understand a word of that?"
"Not a single one" I replied and we both p1ssed ourselves laughing. It was barely mid morning as well!