He was caught off-guard by the awful-smelling ball of Hell Duke that barrelled into him, and his feet slipped.

Anger and adrenalin, long forgotten, took hold of the angel before his inebriated brain caught on. He kept his balance, suddenly locked in a less-than-epic struggle.

"Bastard?" Aziraphale gaped, as Ligur went for his face and he pulled the demon's lacklustre hair to stave him off. "You, a Duke of Hell, calling a Principality, whom you tried to kill, a bastard?"

His struggles were weak and clumsy. The angel couldn't remember the last time he had fought someone in a physical manner, officially or unofficially.