It's Friday. I'm wiping down the bar with the consummate skill developed over years of long practice. The usual crowd is here and I idly ponder the regulars as I go about my work. Uncle Bob has had it - he used to be able to knock them back in the day, but now? A half a quart of Bell's - and his head hits the bar and off he goes to La-La Land. I should call the cops and have him thrown in the piss tank but he actually prefers to sleep it off behind the dumpster in the urine-soaked back alley. Quartermain and I will drag him out at closing time and make sure he has some cardboard to sleep on and a ratty blanket to keep him warm.
Whatever. This is the glamourous night life to which I'm addicted.
Three guys walk in. Not cops - I can spot them a mile away... but maybe G-Men? They gotta be, what with the sun glasses and dark suits. They scope out the dump, nod at each other and then one of 'em starts talking into his wrist. Then he comes up and orders a Shirley Temple.
"Seriously?" I said.
"Just do it," the guy says. Great. A Shirley Temple? What is that anyways? My customers drink gasoline and lighter fluid! What are ya gonna do? So I start mixing up something fruity and gay when this black dude walks in the door.
"Who's the spade?" I ask.
"Seriously?" the spook responds. "Whatever," says I, and go back to mixing up something that might or might not be a Shirley Temple. As I work though I notice the guy has a parrot on his shoulder. Perfect conversation opener, right?
"Hey Pal," I said, nodding at the parrot - "that is pretty cool! Where did you get him?"
And the parrot goes, "Africa! They're all over the place!"
HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!
Sadly, this is what passes for humour at Filthie's speakeasy. But rather than conversing about unsavoury people who aren't fit to shine shoes in a whorehouse - let us concentrate instead on tonight's issue at hand: Whose the world's coolest female musician? I have to ask because WC and CW seem to think this woman has a shot:
If you could somehow manage to speed up Old Slowhand - he might
sound something like this.
I'm gonna throw this one in because I have a thing for the bass too, and cool young ladies.
Maybe not as talented at Kinga...?
Tracy has my vote but I don't know if she's
eligible. She might have retired...
Just a couple to pave the way for the weekend. My vote, as always, goes to Tracy.