Been a long time since I was in a bar fight. Old age and the wisdom that comes with it dictates that I will have now made my exit as soon as I see the storm brewing.
However, I have done my time in such fine establishments as the "Dizzy Duck Inn" (ya duck in, ya waddle out) back when testosterone levels were higher than common sense.
It's that bottle, cue stick, glass or fist that comes from behind that will get you no matter how well you take care of yourself. Never fly solo, always have someone you can trust with you, and when it breaks out, get back to back with them and fight your way to the door.
Of course nowadays I'm not even gonna step foot in a place that's likely to be necessary.
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