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Hair salad in Skadarlija (Jim Greenan)

The moment I fell in love with the accordion was when a man put his head in mysalad. He was a powerful little man with a bald head and a moustache like a walrus.He was playing the accordion while an enormous drunk in a suit was attacking him.

The bass player was on the floor and the violin player was in a headlock. I had nodoubt who the hero was. The accordion player had a giant's hand pushing his head

into my salad and he was being punched in the face, but he didn't stop playing for asecond. In place of fight or flight, he gripped his accordion like a drowning man clingsto a dolphin. He was playing My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean, and that was the causeof the trouble.

The restaurant is almost empty, just me and my friend over one side, and two giantinebriated businessmen over the other side. The resident band's fatal error is toleave the drunks' table and come over to ours. 'Englezi?' says the accordion player.We nod, and the band confer before tentatively starting 'My Bonnie' the only'English' song they know. After two bars, the drunks start shouting in Serbian: 'Godf*** you! I f*** the English. God f***s the English.' The band struggle on nervously.

They don't know the tune properly. One of the drunks stands up, pushes over hischair and comes over. Frankly, I'm not enjoying the song. 'Don't play the f***ingEnglish song, your mother's c***. God f*** the Englishes' mouths.' I'm thinking lessabout My Bonnie, and more about the man who was shot dead in a nearby restauranta few days' earlier. The drunk tries to put his hand over the accordions' keys. 'God'sc*** in your f***ing song.' The walrus moves up an octave. The drunk's hand follows.

The walrus moves back down an octave. The music veers from high to low. The violinplayer, clearly in shock, is repeating the first bar on a loop.

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'X' marks the spot of my salad in the Trieira 'Three hats' in Skadarlija, the tiny remains of Belgrade's old town afterbombing by both sides in World War II. You can get a hint from the food thatBelgrade has spent most of history being attacked. Austrian schnitzel andSachetorte, Hungarian paprika and gula, Turkish stuffed cabbage leaves andbaklava all left behind by occupiers and absorbed by the standard, eclectic,

fantastic Serbian menu. Tonight in the Tri eira, Croatian wines and liqueurs don'tfeature on the menu, which is deliberately written in the cyrillic alphabet of Serbiarather than the Roman script shared with Croatia. This is 1992, and the UK hasrecently betrayed, in the eyes of the drunk businessmen, its old ally Serbia byrecognising independent Croatia, giving the nod to the end of Yugoslavia. Hyper-inflation is in full flow: a three-course meal would have cost 200 dinar a couple ofmonths ago. Now it costs over a million. Tomorrow it will cost more.

Then comes the explosion in the bass section. It is a unique and startlingcombination of sounds, compressed into a single second:

1 knuckles hitting face bone2 growl-shout: 'A dog f***s your whole family!'3 groan of pain4 man falling on floor5 bass falling on man6 fat drunk man falling on bass and man7 air being expelled from two men8 growl-shout: 'God f***s your dog!'9 muffled shout: 'Mother you God!'9 fat drunk man sliding up strings of bass

As time slows down, the catgut, sycamore and bone sound explosion resonates. I geta subliminal flash of Stravinsky with Phil Spector's afro.

The swearingSerbian swearing is big on quantity, low onrange. Almost without exception, it consists ofoffensive combinations of fucker (A) andfuckee (B). Try some out on your family andfriends:

AGodme

a doga horsea gypsy

Byou

your motheryour stupid head

your unwashed childyour whole family

The accordion lesson one: basic defence

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The next movement has started. At the bottom is the deep zizz-zazz of the drunktrying to dismount from astride the bass. From the violin, a weak and terrified morsemessage taps on one string. The keyboard chase finishes as the walrus and hisattacker raise their arms on the explosion.In a parody of the classic tango move, the drunk spins and dips the walrus onto mytable, his huge palm arking the man's head towards my Serbian salad. As his bald

patch sinks into the feta cheese top, the walrus starts playing again. The disjointedfragments of My Bonnie begin to merge with the muffled obscenities. The rhythmmatches the movements of the walrus head as it mashes my salad. For a moment, itis perfect.

The musicOutside in the street in Skadarlija you'll hear gypsy music small duos or trios ofaccordion, fiddle and double bass. Gypsy music is Serbia's most famous musicalexport, spread through the world in the films of Emir Kusturica. Once inside the Trieira, though, it's pure Serbian folk not the old circle-dance kolo tunes, but themournful starogradske pesme the songs of the old town. Did I say mournful?

Bolujem ja, boluje ti, bolujemo sbog ljubavi is one of the opening lines that will haveyou crying into your livovic: 'I am sick, you are sick, we are sick, all because of love.'

Listen! Serbian folk accordion!Jovica PetkoviMirko KodiListen! Serbian gypsy accordion!Lelo NikaAca Cergar

The coda comes too soon. The dismount silences the bass. The violinist gratefullyaccepts his headlock. The door opens and the walrus's fingers freeze on thekeyboard. The drunks relax their fists. Two policemen lead them away.

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As the walrus begins to finger sheep's cheese from his sparse hair, I make twodecisions.1. to buy an accordion the next day2. to never have a violin player in my fox-hole.