Lets All Clap
Let me set the scene. It's 1998 late summer in the metropolis, the Lancer is a relatively young 32 working in London doing something with computers. It's a sweltering hot day and the Lancer is walking down Lambeth Palace Road heading for St Thomas's Hospital. On arrival the Lancer peruses the list of departments until he finds what he is looking for, after which he trots upstairs finds the dept, speaks to the receptionist provides some details, and is directed to a waiting room. In the waiting room he finds a lot of other mainly gentlemen nearly all with bowed heads looking rather uncomfortable and shifty. The room it's self is pretty standard fare for pre-millennial English NHS facilities, dingy with plaster walls painted a strange hue of what can only be described as boil coloured orange, and peeling in places. The folk in the room represented every skin colour, race and creed, they are mainly young, but some are surprisingly old, 'dirty old bastards' thinks...