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Batman, snorkel, flipper, cravat shock

October 21, 2010

Comments on this column are always welcome, and often I will nick anything funny and claim it as my own, and so it is today. I have heard that Gary Glitter is considering appearing in a new film to be called “Oh she’s Eleven”. If you are new to this blog, and I seem to have an increasing readership now spanning 5 continents, please do not expect anything better or in less poor taste. The standards have been set over the past 6 months since I began writing this daily missive, and the bar has been set stubbornly low.

Seeing Andreas at the weekend reminded me of a trip to Berlin last year with Bang and Olavson, our dear Norwegian gay friends, also known as Ziggy and Morten. With none of us having ever been to Berlin before we booked into a massive 40 floor hotel, and, after a few drinks, retired to our respective rooms for a pre dinner siesta.

I had just slipped onto my smoking jacket, removed the latex gloves from their packaging and was adjusting my cravat when that nice lady decorator screamed. I am used to that when I approach her in the dark whilst wearing my batman outfit silly amorous grin, bit on this occasion even I jumped when I saw the image below. Don’t forget we were on the 29th floor of the hotel and one would normally not expect to be overlooked at that height! unless in New York or the like.


Perhaps he was cleaning the windows, from a rope?


Even then I would not expect to find someone limpet like crawling up my window. One tends to be a little less dogmatic about what ones is wearing in the privacy of ones own hotel room, until something like this happens. From now on I will not risk the flippers and snorkel again in any hotel room where the curtains are not closed however high up it is,
It seems that the person outside was climbing the hotel but had omitted to inform the management.

I have found the prescription so the dreaded cholesterol test will go ahead in the morning. This has of course enforced an abstemious night, to add to the previous two so I am reasonably confident that I have exorcised all the last vestiges of alcohol from my system. A reading of anything under 8 I will view as a triumph.

It was going to wait until Friday for the test but an invitation to an early doors drink from the redoubtable Claire Warner this evening could not be ignored and with social occasions stacking up for the weekend, and the resultant damage to my liver, I needed to make use of this narrow window of sobriety in order to try to fool Dr Patrick of my burgeoning good health.

Saturday will see my return to the fold of the Landlubbers golfing group. I say fold but perhaps field would be a better description because the tournament is being run by our sheep loving friend Steve Weston in the absence if Dave the Fade (could I say we have been shawn of his presence?) who is in Australia having his slice lanced.

Actually, Shawn is a good nickname for Steve, well that or Dolly. I think I will adopt and promote it amongst our happy throng at the weekend.
Today I must drive to Antibes to engage HSBC in conversation about currencies before being unleashed in the evening on the Queens Legs and probably the Elysee Carnot.

Chris France

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