A Nobleman Walks Into a Bar

The Mossy Mountain is normally filled with noise from the booze drunk men who rest at the tables, talking and laughing until they can’t any more. Mike, the bartender, is normally serving drinks at a pace that can’t be recorded with any technology. It’s normally like this until someone important walks in.
The door opens, and shuts again with a loud clunk. It echoed in the silence that followed the entry of Graham, an extremely serious member of the Royal Guard. You could hear his boots click against the wooden floor as he walked up to the bar. He ordered a beer, which was slowly and carefully presented to him by Mike, and took a hearty swig.
He slammed it down on the table and it was quickly replaced by another mug full of the stuff. By now, a low buzzing noise filled the room as people passed rumours and comments. Without any justification or warning, Graham stood up, turned around and shouted to everyone in the pub: “You all have the subtlety of a brick and the social graces of a rockfish.”
The words had barely left his mouth when he burst out into laughter, almost struggling to breathe. A couple of nervous laughs were around him, but one comment rose above all of them:
“What’s a rockfish?”