The club is a hive of activity. Not long to go before the Big Night and old Mrs. Turner is busy in the kitchen behind the bar preparing as much of the menu as possible in advance.
Basically this has involved the counting and re-counting of the jars of pickled eggs and piccalilli to ensure there’ll be enough to go round.
Mrs. Flagg is practising outside in her security uniform crouched low by the door challenging any club member that dares to approach the club to a fight. Old Mr. Roundtree has been so worried about the Gents toilet arrangements he has spent most of the day practising dry runs through the club, behind the bar, into the kitchen, round the back and in through the open frosted window in cubicle one.
He is still having trouble cocking his leg over the window sill; so much so that most of his dry runs have turned into wet runs.
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