Before her Bairnsdale ballerina debacle, Madge from Altona was fairly keen on a young bicyclist by the name of Francis.. His aim, apparently was to do the Tour de France, Madge's aim, was of course to do something several degrees lower. She could never resist the offer of a Ploughman's lunch, especially if there were pickled onions and cold tongue involved. Whatever, she would have settled for the Tour de Francis, and very nearly did. That was in her early days, when she could still get into a corset, (although she preferred getting into trousers).
Their favourite haunt was The Stuffed Parrot, which was at that time in full swing. The music was hot, and the jazzeurs were, by their own estimation, somewhat cool cats, who had taken to affecting foppish looks, wearing a slouched berets, thick black framed glasses, and smoking cheap American cigarettes. Of course, the good folk of Altona do not take kindly to that sort of thing, so they also learnt to play every tune very fast, and run even faster. Especially if Madge was in the audience.
But I digress. The Leinster Arms, ah yes, that was what I was getting to. Got there Sunday arvo actually. Frank and Brian starting off, with a bit of key from meself, and sax from Keef. We took a tour through the Jack the Lad chartbook, Sam came in and played some drums, and we all managed to massacre Bernie's Tune, before blithely ignoring the fact that Chega De Saudade has two pages. Captain Chaos put us right on that one, Don wielded the axe for a while and Miss Sonya took out the tonsils and waltzed through a coupla ballads as you do. Then as the headcount/chaos factor mounted, Sam whipped out his organ.
We eventually got the life ban from the Leinster Lizard Lounge and Cabaret Club lifted, by explaining that it was a Hammond; and stepping over the prostrate form of a deeply disappointed Hortense, or not as the case may be, resumed with what is sometimes laughingly referred to as music for a splendid little session. I might try that again next week.