Our Dr Pockless has the right idea: trams! And we’re all going on our very own Uborka Cocktail Tram. Everyone’s queuing up in the rain wearing our best little cocktail dresses and trying to keep our feet dry. We can hear it before we can see it, tch tch tch and muffled laughter, and at last it squeals to a stop and we all climb on.
Mike of course is DJ Tinnitus with his tramline playlist, hoping to avoid a train wreck as we leave the village. This tramway takes us through the countryside but it’s dark out there and bright in here so we really can’t see a thing.
At the other end of the carriage, Graybo is running the bar and dispensing advice about driving and horticulture as he mixes cocktails. There are a lot of people loitering by the bar; that tall laconic dude is Pete with a pint of beer, and he’ll tell you a tale or two about spy pigeons if you care to listen. The good doctor, in his best bib and tucker, also has a pint of the usual and is taking care not to spill it. He’s itching to go up there and hijack the turntables with his Ivor Cutler CDs.
The dancefloor’s in the middle, where you can see Clair and Asta dancing like no-one’s watching, which they’re not because of Lyle headbanging around his handbag, and talking of trainwrecks, who could avoid looking at that?
In among the clusters of other weird cousins, you can probably spot krissa swigging veuve cliquot from the bottle, hanging on to the pole in her 7″ heels.
And here for your enjoyment is the Number 2 Tram along the Danube in Budapest. Ding Ding!
Yay for Ivor Cutler!
Also, I forgot my please and thank you. No manners. I do apologise.
Make sure you don’t spill your drinks as the tram goes around the corners.
Best bet for that, Clair, is to neck it as quickly as possible. No spillage that way
Down in one, down in one, down in one.