The PM, Sticky Fingers and ME

Monday nights at the club are fairly slow, a few drinks and bit of KENO, alot of standing around watching the Pokies being fed. I was told that upstairs was a meeting with little Johnny and friends.
'What the hell would John Howard being doing here?' was my reponse.
"Ohh he does this every so often and it is his seat, and they give him the room for free"
'Ahhh, of all the places in Sydney he gets a free function room here, cheap bugger'

About 2130, I had the bar when a horde of Liberals streamed my way hooting and gibbering striding with determination. Luckly others noticed my plight and joined me behind the bar to repel boarders.
Some minion came up ordered a few beers and a House White, I asked which kind he didn't seem to care except it was for the PM so can he get that one first cause it is for the PM, the PM needs his wine, I'm buying it for the PM.
When I think House wine I go for the Reisling or Moselle on tap, not the better bottled Chardonnay. So I poured a cheap Moselle cause it was for the PM, don't ya know.
The taps have a habit of when you flick them off they have one last spurt of wine and air which ends up coating the outside of the glass with wine aswell.
I passed it along and watched him drink it while pressing the flesh. Him not me.
The fact I'm saying I gave the PM sticky fingers disturbs me, but the public has a right to know.

This other bloke came up a couple of times to order and have a little banter
'So you think the PM will come in tomorrow night'
"You never know your luck'
'Haar harr harr'
He totally laughed like he had seen it written down somewhere once.
He was kind of familar and I had to think about it for a while and still am not certain. All grey suited men seem blur into one so don't quote me.

I think it was this guy's Good Twin.

don't