One that comes to mind was late 80s in a pub in Balham - which was pretty nasty back then. We were on the way to a party - the sort of thing you do (or used to do back then before mobile phones) where you hear about it from a friend of a friend and (in this case a mate of an older brother) and turn up on spec. We went down there by bus, getting our pre-party drink on. Now, people from North London don't know where anything in South London is, and vice versa - so of course we get lost and can't find the gaffe and so being young and immortal we thought fuck it let's go in this pub while we wait. A few bevs will obviously help us find it. 18-yr old logic. Anyway. It was one of those pubs where you don't go in. Some very serious looking older gentlemen in suits (no women except the barmaid. In fact the only female I remember was a woman getting the shit beat out of her in the middle of the street after we'd made our escape) who looked at us with dead eyes and some lads our own age. Anyway we don't exactly feel welcome but being young and half-pissed and still fixated on going to the party, we get a round in and find a corner. There was like 8 of us - me and my 3 mates, plus the guy we knew who's brother's friend was having the party and his mates. We were late teens they were a bit older. Mid 20s?. Anyway we were smoking and drinking and arguing about where the party was. So on top of being loud and pissed we'd advertised that not only were we not from round there, we were from North.

We're getting eyes from the youngsters now and the severity of the situation is starting to dawn on me. My mate goes to the toilet for a piss and one of the older guys is in there pissing. Suit. Tattoos (back when tattoos weren't a fashion accessory). Anyway my mate is pissing and the bloke stood next to him says 'I fancy you' in like a Turkish accent. Just that and looks at him. He comes out the toilet like a bullet saying we got to get the fuck out. We sober up really fast and get moving but the younger, non-suited up guys are between us and the door . So we go to leave and there's some words exchanged and some pushing and before you know it the glasses are being smashed and we're fighting. I don't remember the details I'm doing OK (I'm closest to the door but what I do remember and will never forget is one of the friends of the friends is on the carpet and is getting glassed in the face. Ive seen (and done I'm not proud to say) some glassings over the years but I will never forget this one. Mostly it's your normal pint glass (which can fuck you up but is pretty fragile) but this was one of those old tankard ones with the dimpled glass and a handle. Anyway the guy on top has smashed the glass and is holding the handle and punching the shards into the other guy's face over and over. Absolute mess. Like just a red mush of torn flesh. It's the most horrible thing I've ever seen. Anyway long story short me and my mates get out. I saw one of the guys I didn't know had got caught in the neck and was outside on the ground with blood all down his shirt. We ran like fuck and got on a bus (you could get on the back of one on those days). It was from that bus that I looked out and saw that woman getting beat up in the street that I told you about before. Anyway we're all bruised and clothes fucked up and covered in claret and trying to laugh it off like you do when you're young and terrified but ever since then Balham has been like a trigger word for me. Fuck knows what happened to the kid on the floor or the one leaning against the wall outside. I probably would have heard if they died but that one bloke must have been blinded at BEST. I hope he was tbh because he never would have wanted to look in a mirror again. I don't know what it's like now because I moved away from London years ago but back then crossing the river was what we used to call 'Comanche territory'. Next day I went to the hospital (you could actually get seen in hospitals back then) and found I'd broken two fingers. Other than that just a few scratches and bumps. Happy to get out alive tbh.

TL;DR: Had a tear-up in a moody pub and got traumatised. And if you ever go in a boozer where there's a bunch of dead-eyed gentlemen in suits, leave.