Sammy had been a wrestler for a while but one gorilla press drop too many made him decide to pick up the drum sticks he had ignored since he was fourteen and go find himself a band.
So there he was keeping the beat at the back of a four piece blues set-up in a sleazy basement just off the main road, a gig they had for every Thursday from October to mid-December giving them just enough time to pick up a small number of regulars who thought their music was worth coming back to each week. Plus the beer was drinkable as well as being cheap.
Just before the last number of what was meant to be the first set of the evening, the singer signalled to the peroxide blonde behind the bar for the free drinks which were part of the deal. She gave him the finger. The singer pretended not to notice but Sammy jumped up, rushed forward and hurled somebody’s full pint glass at the mirror behind the bar.
There was no second set which was no surprise when you think about it.