The drink Imps have waited so so long.
Waiting at this street corner. It's their patch. Rain. Hail. Snow. Fog.
It has been their job. To stand, to wait, to be prepared.
As the fog drifted in, on this night, they heard merry making from the
The 'Flap and Clapper' had a busy night, and now, out into the fog
stumbles the one, drinking the end of his pint that he hid as he staggered
past the heavy doors .... Steve - shopworker and keen angler ....
Tonight is their night.
Tonight, is NOT Steve's night.