Trop de Leffe.

A couple of nights ago, I went to a bar in the Quartier Bouffay, which is the area between the Cathedral and the Castle. Not a place you’d generally expect there to be much trouble…



We were innocently sitting outside a bar, when a drunk guy (who we shall name Pierre) stumbled over to us, asking for a lighter. Another assistant, Ceri, willingly obliged, and handed his over. Pierre clumsily lit his cigarette, returned the lighter, and then promptly sneezed, launching the freshly-lit cigarette from his mouth. Not a good start.

Ten minutes passed before Pierre came over again, once more demanding a lighter. This time, however, it seemed that the large amounts of Leffe had hindered his manners, and he started to get louder and aggressive. (I think it was aggressive, anyway. My French-understanding is still somewhat lacking. It was definitely louder.)

The barman thus decided that Pierre had enough, and it was probably time for him to go to bed. Pierre, however, seemed to have other ideas, and started to get more and more agitated. I’m told there was a head butt involved, but I didn’t get to see that bit. Shame.

The next thing we knew, there was a squad of police marching down the road towards the café. Bear in mind Pierre was just one guy. The first ‘wave’ of police officers grabbed him, and pulled him away from the doorway, deciding it was easiest to hold him by his throat. The second ‘wave’ then turned up (another five officers), to stand around and generally look threatening. Before poor old Pierre could tell what was happening, he was frogmarched down the road, off to spend a night in the cells.

All in all, quite an exciting evening. I even found a pint of beer for 4,70€. Bargain…

Je voudrais une wétherspoons á Nantes, svp.
(Interestingly enough, spell-check just informed me that ‘wétherspoons’ is feminine.)

DISCLAIMER: For any worried mothers, fathers or siblings reading this, I was not in any danger at any time. I’m being sensible, honest!