Stonehead

It was yet another dark and stormy night in the forgotten little Norfolk village which hung precariously on the eastern edge of "not so" Merry England and a Fine Young British Gentleman was about to sit down to a tepid milky tea (knock, knock, knock). There was a rapping at the door.Slowly, Trevor got up to answer. It was his rather unusual mate, Roger, come to impart some startling news and, if at all possible, avoid the tea. Come on in out of the storm, I have some very unusual tunes to play you on the gramophone....