Matt and Nick arrived at The Clockface. It was a fairly standard town centre nightclub, but had a few things going for it… they didn’t make you dress like a wanker and they would occasionally play They Might Be Giants records on request.
“What the hell are you doing here?” said the barman to Nick. “I thought we made it pretty clear last night that you’re no longer welcome here.”
“You did? Maybe you did, but I really can’t remember anything about last night…” said Nick, pleadingly.
“Well, I won’t tell you again!” said the barman.
“So, does that mean I’m technically allowed back?” – Nick had hoped this would actually work.
“No, look what the hell do you want?”
“I need to find out what I did last night.”
“You made a fucking cunt of yourself is what you did, mate.”
Matt cut in.
“While we don’t doubt that for a moment, it’s important to us that we accurately establish the exact nature of Nick’s behaviour and whereabouts last night, and so I request we be allowed to view the security camera tapes.”
“What makes you think I’m going to show you the security tapes.”
“The Data Protection Act of 1984” Matt shot back.
“The wuh?” said the barman and Nick at the same time.
“The law that states if you hold information on me, I can request a copy of that for a nominal fee. I have the nominal fee right here, but you really won’t mind us just taking a look, now will you? Not if we keep it quiet when we see your door staff selling drugs or your bar staff selling drinks after you were closed…”
“Now, look… are you coppers?”
Matt and Nick laughed.
“No,” said Nick, “We’re just not sure what the fuck I did last night.”
“Follow me” said the barman.