The tea-shop

A fantasically clothed man bursts into a shop.He announces "I'm
being followed by this rabble of junkyard swine!" all are silent.he
speaks again this time everyone drops a beat, and the synths kick in
and the music explodes. The fantastically dressed girl, from Spain
dances aloft the table.Screaming and jingo games are revealed by all
the staff. The possible flares opportunity to all and collides with
time.Place.Proud and pig headed man rant about new industry inland and
vile women arrive. Dresed to cloy at Wallet and possesion, pretty eyes
crane round to snatch. Match,strikes aflame, whoosh!the moment melts.
The paying guests applaud and leave sweet gestures, their secrets
glowing .Glasses convinced warm peaked wine, chops sosh and eyes weep.
Fattened mouths deal in abstraction whilst wretched mothers weep. By
choice, entertainment is suggested and pursed spring. The novel
crackers are pulled from which folds unto a swarming plume of coloured
pencils. The Tea is finnished. A 50 pence tip is left.