Derek and Clive live?

The pav once again provides me with wonderful material today. Returning ex pats Mark and Ashley Gurdon had specifically requested to have a pav evening on their short visit, and Mark got hilarity off to a great start by wearing a hat which we picked up the Goodwood vintage festival last week at the Faces reunion. Sadly, he must have stolen my phone and deleted it as I wanted to show it here, but as it was emailed, I may still be able to retrieve it in the fullness of time, watch this space.

Never one to consider stupid attire an impediment in almost any social situation, I think his sense of sartorial style is rather nicely illustrated by his choice of venue to renew his wedding vowels with his long-suffering wife; Las Vagas, a full Elvis Presley style wedding with an Elvis lookalike as the Minister as part of a “Love Me Tenderly” package. What class! I think If I were Ashley I would have considered the “Return To Sender” package.

The Pav, this morning after last nights carnage

A hilarious recording was played of Mark and Mr Thornton Allan, well oiled towards the end of Paul’s recent 60th birthday party, having a “grumpy old gits” conversation whilst their respective children were performing in the garden, Paul apparently deciding that as he was now 60 he was not going to do anything he didn’t like doing any more, like drink champagne. Mark joined in and suggested that ratatouille, especially, was something he was never going to have to eat again, and Paul agreeing vociferously. I cannot do it justice in this column but if you can remember the obscene Derek and Clive Live with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore you will get the gist.

Tennis and lunch were postponed until today, so I will be a little later than I had hoped in reporting a famous victory.

The Wingco was on splendid form last night, becoming increasingly grumpy when faced with faint praise (rather grudgingly uttered by Mr Gurdon) about the quality of the writing in this missive. The Wingco has described it as “Ghastly” in the past, and swears that he will never read it again and this allows me to be extra rude about him as often as I like. He did, however, seem to know quite a lot more about its content that I would expect, but when I suggested that he may have weakened and taken a peak, the bristling moustache was in complete denial.

Unlike the three gentlemen above, I did not receive the benefits of a private education, having struggled the state education system in south London, and thus when the are speaking of events of great import, such as art or literature, I stay quiet and listen to my better educated peers. They regale each other with stories of a public schoolboys attempts to maintain dignity, and indeed virginity in a male only environment, if you get my meaning, not a situation I encountered amongst my predominantly skinhead class mates! I think I prefer my educational route!

Chris France      

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