Rather shamefacedly I have to admit to being the perpetrator of a carvery fracas..
When we were in our teens, our little gang of about 10 or so feral reprobates (I use the term reprobates very generously, we were mostly degenerates and animals if I'm honest) used to enjoy the juxtaposition of our foul mouthed, worse smelling, maniacal troupe dining out regularly..
One lunchtime we all rocked up at the local carvery a few miles outside of town, all rather worse for wear, foaming at the mouth and eyeballs rolling..
Our token female member's grubby bare feet were frowned upon, but not as much as an overheard throwaway comment about the carvery owner's legendary breast enhancements..
This was the excuse the staff needed to refuse our custom, but we had already paid and some in our group had started eating so an awkward stand off ensued..
Tensions escalated, tempers flared, pints were spilled and dinners were launched
Police were called and arrived ridiculously mob handed (as was oft the case for our little clan's indiscretions) and we were escorted away.. (one member of our group took the beef joint hidden up their jumper)
Very embarrassing looking back, and I didn't return for over 15 years..
Mrs Yunki and I took the kids there the other evening and I still cringed even though the place has changed hands many times since