Burke and Hare in Edinburgh
I must admit to being slightly surprised that more of the stories on this QoTW are about this den of iniquity.

'Twas my mate X's stagnight, organised by his "irrepressible" mate, Y, who had decided that the standard plot of restaurant, "classy" lapdancing club and boozy parade round all the bars in Edniburgh needed livening up with a trip to the Burke and Hare. As mentioned before, this dive in the pubic triangle area of Edinburgh was a crappy boozer which was magically transformed into a strip joint by dumping an 8x4 sheet of MDF onto the pool table, thus creating an ideal stage for nubile lovelies to parade their delights on.

Anyway, the ladies were gyrating and the exclusively male audience seemed to be enjoying themselves, some displaying this enthusiasm by baying like loons, others by storing their jaws on the floor and, and one particular chap by scratching the itch on his right leg, obviously quite severe as his right hand had, thus far, been permanently stuck in the pocket of his suspiciously stained and flapping mac.

Still, no fights broke out, no-one had killed us and all was well, we figured we'd got away with it, no-one had stabbed us for being English, result, now the ladies had stopped and it was time to leave.

All fine, until the afore-mentioned man in the mac walked up to one of our party, enthused about the quality of the entertainment on offer, and, in parting, patted my mate on the shoulder. With his right hand. Genuinely, one of those "Noooooooooo..........." moments, time appeared to freeze for me as I watched the shaky, sticky hand descend on Dan's shoulder.
(nonegiven, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 17:09, Reply)