The speaker next to the stage begins to emit a thud, like a shower drain hair choking menopausal lady. It is the voice of the singer of the band, tune and in English even lower than that of Joaquin Lopez Doriga, accompanied by the false chords played by musicians accompanying her, which is bursting with the sound system of the platform at King's Pub Polanco.
Like almost all cover bands playing in bars pirrurris, it plays throughout the night a limited catalog of music clichés, guitarrazos eardrums with murderers, Tamborazo roach and choreography worthy of any starter Mario Bezares at the request of his eternal master, Paco Stanley. The singer, microphone in hand singing and gesturing as if he was being sodomized by a former inmate of Almoloya, extends his arms to show his muscles worked, showing hours spent in the gym, the same should invest in a singing classes and languages.
When finished, thank the two occupied tables in the place, whose occupants would not pass the breath test, as if it were a full on Azteca Stadium, not knowing that the owner will come out cheaper to compare a good jukebox. Chá
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