There are some saloons in the West that retain a vice-like grip on their clientele. The customer’s loyalty is guaranteed in perpetuity no matter what may happen on any day within the bar. Indeed, the longer the list of unrefined behaviour becomes, the greater the notoriety of the bar. Every week new patrons - sensing fun - arrive like moths to a light. That’s how badass joints build their brand and their reputation.

For a bar to build that sort of image is impressive; it suggests continuity in staff, management and ownership as well as a commitment to deliver day in and day out. Very few bars in the world get here.

But No Name Saloon in Park City, Utah is one such saloon. The clientele are not there for a quiet time, they are there to test their livers in a setting that encourages the celebration of life. The Utah licensing laws make this bar hard to get into, but the energy once you get in, makes it even harder to leave. It is an unrelenting vortex of mischief.

No Name Saloon embraces Americana and any customer lending weight to that narrative is welcome, no matter the practicalities. So, on that basis, I thought bringing in a 2000 lb male bison on a snowy Tuesday morning could only add to the lore of the joint.

As I suspected, no one in the bar really cared - they just went on with normal business - they are not easily shocked in this part of the world. It was just another Tuesday. Who knows what happened in No Name on Wednesday.