Good morrow to thee, jolly fellow, quoth Robin, thou seemest happy this merry morn. / Ay, that am I, quoth the jolly Butcher, and why should I not be so? Am I not hale in wind and limb? Have I not the bonniest lass in all Nottinghamshire? And lastly, am I not to be married to her on Thursday next in sweet Locksley Town?

Such incidents create debate about localism, a brand of territorialism that has been practiced at surf breaks around the world for decades.

Strange fastened it to his cane, for he fancied his little stick even on shipboard. With this he sprung onto the bulwark and roared out to Williams: 'I've not struck, sir! Tell your bloody bang-straws to try and hit my stick!'

As the gunman spluttered, Towler continued the momentum of his hand to catch the man side-handed in the windpipe and, with his other hand, struck him hard in the crotch.