Lock ins are the greatest phenomena known to teds. A whole bar to yourselves and a select group of close friends and bar flys.
The Swan and Whistle had made the lock in, into an art form. However since the bar became a strip joint and changed its name, lock ins are a distant memory until tonight.
So here we are, an open bar, surrounded by exotic dancers and all it took was "The earth spitting out the Unted and letting them return to eat the fluff of the living."
Only a few days ago I was winning employee of the month, now I'm a leader of a rag tag band of misfits, in the securist bar in town.
However I think the bar snacks and beer aren't going to last. I need to get everyone out of here and somewhere safer.