Urban cowboy style

Dinner last night with Mr Clipboard and lovely wife Ashley, is enlivened by fellow guest Mr “like a stallion” Humphreys (he was free) and his rather alarming choice of attire in what he described as his “urban guerrilla” style, but which the assembled multitude collectively decided was more “urban cowboy”, with a some influences from Mr Ed, the talking horse.

Many interesting concepts were discussed, but as usual I was only allowed to make notes when no one was looking, it being generally accepted now that any stupid behaviour or inappropriate comments will be truthfully reported in this column. The word truthfully in this context is of course subjective. It is also accepted and understood that if I do not make notes then I will surely forget most events by the time it comes to compile this missive, and thus there is a concerted attempt to prohibit note taking.

So there were also subjects and themes that I cannot report, simply because as a result of my advanced state of degeneration, I cannot remember much of embarrassment without notes.

From my notes for instance, I know that the marketing department at Mitsubishi were all in deep trouble after launching the Nissan Pajero in Spain. The problem was that the launch apparently, took place without realising that the word Pajero in Spanish means something relating to masturbation. Not too many people then were going to be happy driving a Nissan wanker.

Other stories emerge, such as one of our number, who wishes to remain anonymous, but Lorraine will know of whom I speak, who has experienced bananas up her exhaust pipe (no, I don’t understand either). Another concept which was discussed is that none of us knows where area code 0898 is, otherwise most of us men would choose to live there.

The wingco made an appearance, comparatively rare in recent weeks, having had his brother in town for a week or so, and complaining of hard-drinking until 4am every night for a week. I suggest that after a few early nights he will be back in the saddle, which is continuing the horse theme, but last night by midnight, it looked in his case like the horse had bolted after the stable door was shut again. He did however make one point in defence of paedophiles; at least they drive slowly past schools.

Nigel Hindle showing us some of his best Saturday Night Fever dance moves

Discussion turned to the subject of my photograph today, one that you may have already seen, but it is so good I can’t resist using it again. Specifically, chat turned to Mr Nigel Hindle, who featured in the top 15 photos from the first year of this column, and his stag night some years ago. It seems that as the instigator of various dastardly deeds at several stag nights for friends, his own stag night provided an opportunity for some to get their own back. Sadly for reasons of bad taste, I cannot reveal too many details but whilst running across a lawn in the early hours whilst fully covered an treacle and feathers, he broke his ankle, with the result not pleasing the wife to be, that he used a walking stick to get up the aisle.

One of his more cruel deeds for which he was receiving this dire punishment, was to have one poor chap stripped naked, pinned to the ground and a very large rocket attached to his maleness by rope and then to light the firework, which raced into the air without the poor chap knowing that the rope had been cut.

So, another quiet night in the Cote d’Azur…

Tennis this morning to blow away the cobwebs, when the wingco and I will no doubt combine again as the undefeated (this year) mustachioed old gits against Mr Clipboard and John “I crashed my 777 at Heathrow” Coward, followed by lunch..

Chris France