In walks a slim handsome youth (I can be what I wanna be in here, right?) dressed like a sailor, but carrying a tee-fer like he knows how to use it.
"Sorry I didn't get here sooner, I was looking for a Cajun sea-shanty weekender, but no bugger would tell me where it was"
He produced a polypin of nice warm real ale and started in singing Jolie Blonde at breakneck speed, accompanying hisself on the old triangle, as this lissom wench slipped in thru the curtains and did foot percussion on top of some startled rodents.
"They'll all have headaches in the morning" he wryly observed. Some folks in the corner had suddenly stood up, recognising the Cajun national anthem thru their drunken stupor.