I see what you mean about the bingo. The "eyes down and look in(ward)" bit has obvious echoes of big religion, you give money away (à la collection plate) and all you get back is a custard cream and weak tea (à la communion wafer and splash of holy water on the way in). And we get the money (which we need, hence the bar in the janitorium - er, sorry, "glee shack"). OK, we'll run with that.

Right, so we've nailed bingo in Sheffield and we've bagged Watford Gap. It's a start. I haven't managed to find a barn on a farm yet for the more secretive,cultish activities. Bloody farmers round here get forty grand per year per windmill and it's made the buggers greedy. And they're all bloody stand-up-fer-Jaysus tone-deaf Methodists, which doesn't help. Any progress on rooms in breweries yet?