We had a pub we used to go in Merstham, Surrey called the Iron Horse, or Tin Donkey as it was known as locally (funny chaps these surrey folk), as it was the only one that opened in the afternoon in those early days of all day drinking. Rough as all fook. I had a friend come down, who lived in Kensington, with a scottish friend, who wanted a trip sarth of the river. He asked if could play the piano in the pub and as the speculative locals were warming themselves up for some knees up mother brown and tulipe, and he starts playing Rachmaninov. He took a lot of tulip form th elocals, and eventually started playing whatever they wanted him to play, and only stopped after an hour or so. Never seen a bloke so shaken up and out of his comfort zone. He later admitted he'd fair shat himself.
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