From the Cat and Custard Pot to the Frog and Orange, Kent has no shortage of bizarrely named boozers.

Here are ten of our favourites - if you can explain some of the more mysterious monikers, or if your local boasts a barmy name - let us know in the comments.

Poacher's Pocket, Chatham

Thankfully unrelated to the similarly named Chatham Pocket, a poacher's pocket is far less troubling, though just as useful in certain lines of work.

Referring to a full-length pocket cut into the back of a long coat, the poacher's pocket was often accessible from both sides, allowing the wearer to easily stow illegal-procured game.

The Blazing Donkey, Ham, Sandwich

We are sorry to report the odd moniker really does refer to a donkey being set alight, albeit accidentally.

We probably shouldn't tell Peta about that one after its complaint about the Fighting Cocks today.

The story goes one of the regulars used to burn off the unfortunate animal's straggly hairs with a naked flame (health and safety wasn't such a priority in the 1800s).

One day the inevitable happened and the donkey caught fire, but amazingly it survived the ordeal.

Henceforth, the pub - originally called the Alexandra Arms - was nicknamed the Blazing Donkey, and the name stuck.

The Huffler's Arms, Dartford

A huffler, according to a dictionary of old Kentish terms, was a worker responsible for carrying fresh provisions to ships.

You learn something new every day.

The Sennockian, Sevenoaks

Not a creation of Lewis Carroll or a creature from Lord of the Rings, a sennockian is in fact a pupil of the Sevenoaks School.

Which is ironic in a way, given that most of them are too young to get served there.

The Amazon and Tiger, Vigo

We were imagining a complicated fable, but actually this exotically monikered village pub is named after two species of butterfly, according to Kent beer blogger Paul Bailey.

The Cat and Custard Pot, Paddlesworth

Animals and custard pots are never a good combination, except when they appear on the same inexplicable pub sign.

Research by the owners suggests the 'cat' resulted from the well-intentioned but inadequate efforts of a regular to paint a new sign for the pub, originally called the Red Lion. Instead of a lion, the hapless artist produced a decidedly less fearsome feline.

As for the custard part, your guess is as good as ours.

The Frog and Orange, Wingham

From the mid-1700s this pub was called the Green Man, but in 1996 a landlord by the name of Tony King - obviously a fan of amphibians and citrus fruit - decided to change the name to the Frog and Orange.

The reasoning behind the change remains largely unclear, except presumably to Mr King.

The Spread Eagle, Margate

Stop sniggering at the back, the name actually refers to a heraldic motif of an eagle with its wings spread, not whatever you were thinking about.

The Smack, Whitstable

A smack is type of boat traditionally used for fishing in Thames Estuary. Like Thames barges, smacks often sported distinctive red sails as a result of waterproofing treatment made from red ochre, cod oil, and seawater.

The Flying Saucer, Gillingham

It's thought this extra-terrestrial trade name dates from the 1950s heyday of saucer-shaped spacecraft bearing visitors from Mars.

Local history buffs suggest the pub was originally a club, which settled on the space-age sobriquet in order to attract fashionable patrons.