Garside Gazette reporter Arnold Mickleacre made his way into the bar room of the clubhouse and walked across to the bar as if he had every right to be there. Geoff Piddock, green keeper c*m bar tender eyed him suspiciously, knowing he was not a member. Piddock was a tall thin man in his sixties, completely bald apart from a few white tufts of side whiskers, and as if to compensate for the lack of hair on his head, he sported bushy eyebrows, the long hairs of which drifted into his eyes together and a great snow-white walrus moustache.
Garside Gazette Arnie took out his wallet and laid a crisp new five-pound note on the bar top.
‘What do you want?’ Geoff Piddock asked. ‘Non-members are not allowed in here unless accompanied by a member.’
‘I know, I know, but…’ he let the word linger, ‘i
