hence wilt thou lift up a cup of coffee

Quaffing coffees in the Tearman cafe with Uncle Scutch and my second cousin once removed Hector.
I use the term second cousin once removed advisedly.
It means Hector was once removed from a pub for insisting on talking to the other patrons  (Denizens surely? - ed note) about organ music.
He's talking about the same thing now.
For Hector is an organist who brings his work into pubs and cafes with him.
The Uncle and I listen nonplussed as he discourses.
Neither of us are huge organ music fans.
And if you don't like the music, a conversation about the music is unlikely to float your boat.
Maybe if Donald Trump banned organs I could work up a bit of enthusiasm for the subject.
My eyes are a bit glazed.
Hector pauses, suspicious that we're not listening.
"Organ music is like fine wine," I comment intelligently. "Ninety percent of the population know nothing about it and have no interest in knowing."
I am saved from Hector's response by the clinking of the cafe door.
Ninety year old Mrs Von Horst and her entourage of trained old ladies enter and occupy a table near us.
They can kill you at fifty paces with a blow of their tongues.
(One of mine? - Basil Fawlty note)
(Homage - Heelers note)
There is an awkward silence.
Hector looks extremely uncomfortable.
"What's going on?" says Uncle Scutch.
"Hector and Mrs Von Horst are in a power struggle over the church organ," I explain.
Uncle Scutch looks at Hector who is studying the view from the window.
"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard," says Uncle Scutch. "They're not really fighting over the organ, are they? That would be like two bald men fighting over a comb."
"You underestimate the stakes at issue," I elaborate. "Who controls the organ, controls the choir loft. Who controls the choir loft controls Rome. Who controls Rome controls the world."
"Are you really fighting with Mrs Von Horst?" says Uncle Scutch to Hector.
Hector nods.
"I'm not sure I want to be seen with you," grumbles Uncle Scutch as the little old ladies from Transylvania continue to stare us down.
You should visit my town bold readers.
It's strange here.
You'll like it.