Dave knew what he was talking about. A lot of musicians took pep pills. Various kinds could be bought at places such as the Jump Club. Dave had tried some but did not really like the effect.

He looked hard at the stranger. Although he was dressed in jeans and a striped sweater, the jeans were cheap and did not go with the sweater, and the man had a short military-style haircut. Dave had an uneasy feeling. “No,” he said curtly, and turned away.

In one corner stood a tiny stage with a microphone. At nine o’clock a comedian came on, to enthusiastic applause. It was a man dressed as a woman, although the hair and makeup were so good that in a different setting Dave might not have twigged.

“Could I have everybody’s attention, please?” the comic said. “I’d just like to make an important public announcement. Jerry Robertson’s got VD.”

They all laughed. Walli said to Dave: “What’s VD?”

“Venereal disease,” Dave said. “Spots on your cock.”

The comedian paused, then added: “I know, because I gave it to him.”

This got another laugh, then there was a commotion at the door. Dave looked that way and saw several uniformed policemen coming in, pushing people out of the way.

The comic said: “Ooh, it’s the law! I do like a uniform. The police come here a lot, have you noticed? I wonder what attracts them?”

He was making a joke of it, but the police were unpleasantly serious. They shoved their way through the crowd, seeming to enjoy being unnecessarily rough. Four went into the men’s toilets. “Perhaps they’ve just come for a pee,” said the comic. An officer got up on the stage. “You’re an inspector, aren’t you?” the comic said flirtatiously. “Have you come to inspect me?”

Two more cops dragged the comic away. “Don’t worry!” he cried. “I’ll come quietly!”

The inspector grabbed the microphone. “Right, you filthy pansies,” he said. “I have information that illegal drugs are being sold on these premises. If you don’t want to get hurt, stand face to the wall and get ready to be searched.”

The police were still pouring in. Dave looked around for a way out, but all the doors were blocked by blue uniforms. Some of the customers moved to the edges of the room and stood facing the walls, looking resigned, as if all this had happened to them before. The police never raided the Jump Club, Dave reflected, even though drugs were sold there almost openly.

The cops who had gone into the toilet came out frog-marching two men, one of whom was bleeding from the nose. One of the cops said to the inspector: “They were in the same cubicle, governor.”

“Charge them with public indecency.”

“Right you are, guv.”

Dave was struck painfully in the back, and cried out. A policeman wielding a nightstick said: “Get over by the wall.”

Dave said: “What did you do that for?”

The cop stuck the club close to Dave’s nose. “Shut your mouth, queer boy, or I’ll shut it with my truncheon.”