The crudely written sign on the door read 'Magical Mystery Tour' and from within came the strains of 'She Loves You' being played on a barrel-organ. A handful of young girls waiting patiently outside eyed me up and down as I pushed open the door and entered.

The small room was hot and smokey. Long strips of film hung from steel coat racks and dozens of LPs lay scattered around the floor. Empty coffee cups were dotted everywhere with ashtrays spilled over with cigarette butts.