Ah, the itinerant seafood salesman in his white coat and wicker basket.
In the late 70s we used to frequent an old pub in Newcastle. A bit of a dive but it served a great pint of draught Bass!
The gents was in a courtyard at the back and was basically a half-tiled wall with an open trough at the bottom. The trough often got blocked with puke, chewing gum or fag ends and when it did the floor was covered in a half-inch of piss!
One night when I had to pay a visit and ended up trying to pee on tiptoes so my trainers didn’t turn yellow the seafood guy comes in and plonks his basket of goodies on the floor before relieving himself!
Needless to say that put me off buying prawns, shrimps or crab sticks ever again.
