Everyone who was anyone knew that on a Thursday night The Surgeon on Tottenham Court Road was the place to be. As the day’s work finished up for the night, the pub would slowly fill so that by the time 8pm hit, it was standing room only and secretaries would be shoulder to shoulder with builders, traders, lecturers, accountants, all waiting for
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Nicely done.
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The manager hated karaoke. He was never going to bring it back, even if it meant more business. It's a stupid attitude, but what can you do?
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