“Have you not seen them?!?” I enquire innocently.
Eddie follows my glance across to the saloon bar. His jaw drops, like Mr Bojangles’s dog. Beside him, Len the Fish looks up from his pint in astonishment.
“Bloody hell…” gasps Eddie.
“Quite – striking, I thought,” I say.
A couple of the other regulars notice and join in. The Well-Spoken Barman pushes past us to get to the gap in the bar. He has the leave-me-alone air of a man who has been defending haberdashery all day. We tactfully wait until he is serving other customers before resuming our discussion.
“There’s re-upholstery. And there’s re-upholstery.”
The glow from the fluorescent pink now seems to fill the room, transfixing and hypnotising all who behold it.
“It’s like… it’s like we’re in a Gay Bar…”
“No,” I correct him. “It’s like we’re in a heterosexual notion of what a gay bar might look like.”
They nod at my sage wisdom.
“Actually, most of the gay bars that I have ever been in have been horrible dives.”
“What we should do is get one of the barstools covered in that material. Then we can play forfeit games as to who has to sit on it.”
“Did you see the UFO the other day?”
“No. But I’m sure there are aliens out there somewhere,” insists Eddie. “Somewhere.”
The chairs are forgotten. We talk about extra-terrestrials for some time.