We were shown to our table in the vast restaurant. In the centre of the room was an archipelago of islands hosting every kind of food you could imagine. Things were looking promising.
Then the Gorse Fox noticed a small stage in the corner. On it was a drum kit and double bass. It could well be the harbinger of an excellent evening. Three musicians headed for the stage. A drummer dressed in the mandatory black, the bassist in a white shirt and black slacks, and a hobbit dressed in black who spirited an electric accordion from nowhere.
Now, noise can be evocative. The sound of waves on the shore, or leaves rustling in the trees can make the heart soar. Similarly, the sound of fingernails on a blackboard, Ed Miliband, or a Stuka dive-bomber can have you clawing at your bleeding ears to make it stop. The accordion is orders of magnitude worse. It is Satan's own instrument wheezing and whinging like an asthmatic without his inhaler. It is enough to turn the sweet-natured Gorse Fox into a psychotic axeman charging across the restaurant with a cleaver in one hand and a cast iron pan in the other (to adjust the hobbit's irritating goatee-framed smirk).
It was about as bad as it could get as they worked through every accordion "classic". One (and only one) diner clapped as they finished each number. The rest, like the Gorse Fox, glowered at the moan of the tortured cats (or whatever actually makes the noise) from inside the instrument.
If the EU wants to do something really useful, it should outlaw accordions.
Rant over. (oh yes, the food was excellent).
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