No.100

Until a long-forgotten relative passed away, this weekend reveller was mostly potless, any reddies in his pocket were swiftly exchanged for beer tokens and entry to the wide awake club. Then suddenly his luck changed with a knock at the door from a man in a suit. Luckily he opened the door and was given the news that he was the last link to King Cottonopolis and he’d inherited some serious property. Fast forward a few years and he’s cleaned up his act and uses his numerous warehouses to put on events, where people party like it’s 1849.