In the good old days there was only enough room for one in your local
Because in your local you would be mercilessly bullied (and quite rightly so) until you went home to your wife to bore her with your bellendery..
She would (quite rightly) start an affair with that bloke down the road who fixes cars, and completely cease to acknowledge your existence..
and you, quite oblivious, would spend all your new found free time now an outcast from the pub, with the local model aeroplane club up on the heath, until Bob Simpkins invites you back to his shed for a look at his 1:12 scale Sopwith Camel, only to drunkenly make a sexual advance after you and he have enjoyed a couple of sherrys whilst self consciously debating the origins of model aircraft building... This prompting you to forgo your model planes and never return to the heath out of embarrassment, and instead to return to the pub as a reformed character, to help bully the next erudite,bibulous,self appointed tap room expert on absolutely everything into submission and all that comes after..
It's a fairly well documented cycle of events (but I can't provide links to any peer reviewed studies)