Rugby.... Officially the bane of my life.

I hate Rugby. I didn't used to, then I worked on Saturday night.

Wales won the triple crown. They seem to be winning everything. Instead of being safely closeted away in the kitchen, I was on the floor, on the front line of the battle. Literally, from seven, when I got onto the bar til we closed, we were insanely busy. The only time we slowed down was when a guy fell down our admittedly steep but extremely well signposted stairs to the toilet. He was dragged out on a stretcher, and two of the staff had to clean his blood up etc... So in a very real way, there were even casualties.

It's not that good a game. Really it isn't. It's certainly not good enough to justify God knows how many fights there were on the night, it isn't good enough to justify the guy who (and yes, I had him thrown out for this) leant over the bar, grabbed me by my hair and screamed into my face that the English are wankers, and he will call me a wanker and that I'd like it, and I should be grateful he wasn't beating seven kinds of shit out of me. The rest of the Bars special forces, S Company (Saturday) all had similar tales to tell.

Not only that, but I had to deal with what can only be described as an insubordinate employee. I didn't do it well and lost my temper, but this is not the first time him and I have crossed paths... However, it is quite clear that I am going to have to assert my authority, something I'm not terribly comfortable with and something I'm not all that precious about, but I will not have staff who've been there for three weeks telling me what to do, especially seeing as I've already read the riot act to him.

Watch this space. There will be resolution tommorrow!