craigb
Was he responsible for painting those lines while drunk too? 
That just reminded me of a little pub we had here in Worcester - The Red Lion (sadly it's no longer a boozer after conversion to a Thai restaurant) - a typical town pub serving a decent pint of draught ale.
As I recall, the clientele were what you might call a 'bit rough'. Anyway, a few years ago, they used to field a couple of teams in the local pool league, and a visit there to play one of their sides was always - shall we say - "entertaining"; they didn't like losing, that's for sure! The standard of cuemanship on offer from the regulars was, however, pretty piss-poor. And the more they drank, the worse it got. What didn't help either was that my team were all snooker and billiards players of a decent standard, and we inevitably ended up beating them 9-0 or 8-1.
Looking back, I recall that in the Worcester League we used to play on some really unkempt and unloved pool tables in the various pubs and clubs we visited. But there was no table I've ever played on that compared to the green-baized beauty that was the pride of The Red Lion. The well-worn, beer-stained cloth always had small tears in it, the cushion rubbers were shot, and there was a distinct roll because they'd never bothered to level it properly.
But the best of all and most memorable (and what Craig reminded me of) was that the landlord had not only drawn the baulk line on the table in thick black felt-tip pen, but he'd obviously done it completely freehand! I can just imagine the conversation late one evening...
"Oi gaffer, we can't see the baulk line anymore."
"Hang on, I'll just find the marker pen I use on the A-board outside."
"Aren't you going to use a ruler?"
"Pfft.... are you saying I can't draw a straight line - watch this."