That was the eighties…we had a contractor come to work for us, from Rochdale, more hair on his chest than his head, came to the office wearing shirts unbuttoned to below the chest to show off his gold medallion, offering the women that he fancied a ride in his Lotus Esprit that he’d changed the sound system in because “the one it comes with just isn’t good enough”…we called him the Rochdale Cowboy and whenever he was lounge lizarding his way over to our group whoever saw him first would hum the opening bars of Rhinestone Cowboy to warn the others.
Memories… :lol: