Always had this mental image of sitting at a smokey, dimly-lit bar on a round spinny stool in a plaid shit, gillet and baseball cap, halfwatching a game of some sort of American sport on an old grainy TV set that’s too small, necking shots of whisky with one cube of ice, pointing and saying ‘fill her up’ and chucking some crumpled up dollars at a guy with a towel over his shoulder whilst almost crying about a woman.
If it’s not exactly like that they can keep it.