1966, you work as an exotic dancer in a rock club, you’re known for your infamous dances with snakes on your shoulders, cigarettes, black hats, dark jewellery and your flowy, black, witchy outfits.

Its a Friday night, you’re working your usual shift. Jim and his bandmates are sat at the bar counter drinking some beer and smoking. Smoke blows out of the stage as the colourful lights flash the dark place.