REALLY?

EXCUSE ME? MUSTARD. I MEAN, KAREN.
THIS LADY WOULD LOVE TO MEET YOU.

- I BROUGHT THE BROCHURES.
- CAN I GET YOU A DRINK?

- WHY DID YOU THINK IT SAID THE REST?
- I MUST HAVE DREAMT IT.

OOH, THAT WAS TERENCE TRENT D'ARBY,
COCKY MAN FROM THE '80S,

AND HE IS MR NUMERO...ONE.

- WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LINED UP?
- IT'S LADIES' NIGHT TONIGHT.

ONE SMALL BAILEYS, PLEASE.

- THIS IS "EINSTEIN A GO GO".
- GID. THAT'S GIT.

I CAN NEVER FIND THE LIGHT SWITCH IN HERE.

- THAT WAS ME.
- I KNOW IT WAS.

HE'S SURROUNDED BY BOUNCERS.

SO HOW LONG'S "LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY"
BEEN COMING IN?

MY BOOK COULD END UP BEING RECONSTITUTED
AS A TABLE IN A HOME FOR BATTERED WOMEN.

THE TROUBLE IS IT'D BE QUITE DIFFICULT TO SWALLOW

- WANT A GLASS OF WINE?
- THANK YOU VERY MUCH. CHEERS.

THREE. NO, NO... FOUR. IT DOESN'T MATTER, DOES IT?

NO, IT'S A GOOD IDEA.
I COULD GET LYNN TO DRIVE US THERE.