Hold the Lemon, Please. By Andy Thompson

I worked as a bartender for a number of years in my early twenties and, when the hotel I worked for closed down, I applied for a job at The Roxy, a now-defunct venue that used to showcase some fantastic bands. I was excited because I would, hopefully, see some bands that I adored. On my first night, Australia’s “The Cruel Sea” was playing and I was over the moon. I trotted into work and was told I would be working upstairs instead of the main room. I glumly trudged upstairs and opened the door into a roomful of pain. Like, an actual room filled with pain. It was the Hellfire Club, a once a month night when people who loved bondage and discipline got together to whip each other with various implements. The first thing I saw was a masked 6ft tall lady wearing a G-string and thigh-high boots with 2 men walking behind her like dogs, wearing leashes. One of them was even barking. I took up my position at the bar and tried to avoid watching a portly naked man being spun around on a wheel-like device while a lady belted him with a whip. About halfway through the night, a semi-nude man with perfect hair, wearing what appeared to be 3 leather belts tied strategically about his person, sidled up to the bar.

Can I help you?

Yeah, can I have a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks with a twist of lemon and you?

Um. You can have all of those things except one.

Okay, hold the lemon.

Well played, weirdo. Well played


in Fortitude Valley, Queensland, Australia

 1,598

What Andy looks like.

I tell jokes for cash, manly hugs and free drinks. I’ll tell you which way the water flows for free. Comedian, engineer, writer and husky man-about-town.

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