Recently, Hannah and I were eating at our favourite restaurant (well, favourite until we eat at any of the other many and varied restaurants near where we live and discover an alternative) when a spot of trouble broke out. We were enjoying stuffing our greedy little western faces when we heard the unmistakable sound of something smashing in the near vicinity. Looking round we saw a local sending a volley of harsh words into the corner of the establishment (well, I assumed they were harsh, especially given the response he received). Some screaming followed his words, as did some more crockery, shattering just over his head. Foolishly he decided that the best course of action was to make immediately for the trouble spot and see if he could sort things out.

Judging by what happened next I have no hesitation in saying that he failed. The screaming intensified and the crescendo of sound that then broke out brought several of the other patrons scurrying into the section of the restaurant that Hannah and I sat in. At this point, many of the other restaurant go-ers decided that, much like a driver slowing down on the motorway to get a look at a grizzly accident, they wanted to see what the fuss was all about. They needn't have gone looking for it. The sound of restaurant items breaking unceasing, two men hove into view, one of them wielding a chair much like a maniac would a chainsaw. He was brandishing it threateningly at the other man before deciding that one big swing would be sufficient to put this skirmish to bed. Because of the huge arc of his swing, the onlooker managed to get out of the way and the rest of the eaters could only sit open mouthed as the chair shattered against the wall, sending splinters into their food.

Finally cottoning on to the fact that things were now completely out of hand, most of the customers made a beeline for the only part of the restaurant now unaffected by the fight; where Hannah and I were sitting (which was a stroke of luck in itself since Hannah had wanted to sit by the window, exactly where the problems started). The staff seemed reluctant to wade in and for a split second I considered going to see what precisely was happening until, walking calmly around the corner came a man who had evidently been in the thick of everything. He had two huge gashes above his eyes which were streaming blood into his eyes and onto his face and splashing onto the floor and tables that he passed. At this point I wisely decided that I wouldn't roll up my sleeves and march headlong into the melee, coming to the conclusion that people didn't want me to end the fight with my patented brand of martial arts, as they were having too good a time watching it.

Despite the fact that one of the fighters had been removed from action, the battle still raged on. People were still trying to make it into the safe section and the noise of things breaking and skulls cracking was unrelenting. Blood was now creeping around the corner and the staff didn't really know what to do about any of the ongoing shenanigans. Small children were crying loudly and, much to our amazement, a couple sitting in the corner still eating their food told us calmly that we shouldn't worry about it because they've seen it happen a few times before.

Sure enough, a few minutes later things calmed down (probably because the protagonists were dead or dying) and the staff began the process of cleaning up the assorted brain and bone fragments that littered the floor. The police arrived on the scene to absolute carnage and began taking photos of the mess before interviewing a few people. Meanwhile, I polished off the last of the egg fried rice, burped richly and made my way with Hannah back into the relative safety of the Beijing night. We'll probably still go there to eat. The food is good, the price is cheap and you get front row seats to the sort of mayhem only seen in films.