A few years ago ( different band back then ) we were playing a poky pub called The Seacourt Hotel, at Botley, Oxford.
We could hear some prune at the back shouting when the music had some quiet bits, but just ignored him because he was unintelligble.
After getting no reaction, he wandered upto the rhythm git, and said in his shell like...
" You're a c*nt mate "
Cue fighting Dave, the demon devil drummer. He shouts out sumfing from behind his monster kit, and almost at the same, our voxist shouts out sumfing equally shocking, who believe it or not, was a fighting Gypsy nutjob, although a lovely bloke, and had been banned from every pub in the town he lived in, and suddenly the prune goes quiet.
Later, punchy Dave remembers the guy from times previous, to do with work, and remembered the guy had a business and was fiddling the Taxman, so fighting Dave bubbled him to the aformentioned Govt. stinkpots dept.
Andy the Gypsy nutjob, although a lovely bloke, and 2 hits Dave, decided that it wasnt prudent to slap him silly, so the Taxman was the result
Oh how we chortled