What? No bar?

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Alfa Romeo advertised that their car with the headline "If it's a saloon, where is the door handle?" I had other questions too. Sadly, they didn't reply.

Dear Sir,

Your advertisement on the back of today's Age Good Weekend Magazine posed the quite reasonable question "If it's a saloon, where's the rear door handle?".

Certainly, that is a very good question.

However, one could equally ask, as I am now, "If it is a saloon where is the piano player?"

Or the round tables and bent wood chairs?

Or the bleached, brassy, big busted blonde bar maid, smelling of sour beer and cheap eau de toilette, dispensing drinks and advice to anyone but taking nonsense from no-one?

Or the suave gentleman on the corner table wearing the natty suit and silk cravat, gold watch and silver-handled cane, mouth full of blarney, pocket full of sovereigns and sleeve full of aces?

Or the worried little sheriff, droopy moustache, unwashed and unshaven, certain that at any moment some itinerant banditto will challenge him in the fruitless pursuit of momentary glory?

Or the local 'ladies' flaunting their wares; low-cut, high-priced, brazen, daring, cheeky, and bored; bed and bawd. Unselective, uncaring, uninhibited and most probably unsanitary?

Where are they?

Or the laconic cow-hand, ignoring everyone as he cries quietly into his drink? Not to be seen.

And, for the heaven sake, where are the tethering rails, the raised wooden walkways, the spittoon, the beer, the cards, and the stair case to heaven knows where? And the bar? Where is the bar?

How can you have a saloon without a bar??

You bastards! Not even saw-dust on the floor! Have you no sense of tradition?

Yours aghast.

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