Room At The Inn

It had all the makings of a Greek tragedy, but in the end, all was well. Let me tell…
 
Liz and Phil had been on the train heading up from London to Balmoral when the engine broke down in the northern city of York. What were they to do? Just one suitcase each with just one change of underwear and needing to stay somewhere for the night. Went and spoke to the night porter at the eponymous Royal York Hotel but there were no empty rooms there.
 
So, off they trudged dragging their wheelie suitcases behind, and landed up at a dodgy pub in town. After crossing the landlord's palm with much gold, he showed them into a room next to the bar staffs' rest room. Liz was so sick of all the ouzo and stuffed vine leaves that Phil had brought, she threw the window up and shouted down...
 
"Oi, you Commoner! Yes, you, the tall thick one stood in the road with that awful old-fashioned cem'ra.
Do something hasty for once and run along to the chippy for me. I want one of each (haddock, not cod), with lots of scraps, mushy peas, oh, and a curry sauce. Plenty of salt and vinegar. 
And talking of Landlord's, I'll have a couple of pints of Timothy Taylor's to swill it all down with."
 
*Royal burp*