Bottom Flossers?

Bottom flossers, now there Is a concept that I had not previously considered. Peachy Butterfield decided yesterday afternoon, having as usual consumed the usual several vats of wine decided that he wanted to swim, doubtless to show off what a fine figure of a man he is, but after the ongoing discussions about the unsuitability of speedos in this column and in my ranting Happy Mondays blog for angloinfo, the new edition of which is published today, I told him that his favoured mode of dress, speedos were banned in my pool. This was the point where he said that in that case he would borrow his wife’s bottom flossers. By this I took it to mean that she was wearing those skimpy creations much-loved by women (and many men).

You will understand then why I relented, and he took to the pool like a fat porpoise. It was he who once said that he thought he was anorexic as every time he looked in the mirror he thought he looked fat.

At one stage, I tried to educate him about quality red wine, even opening a bottle of Barolo, but it is a lost cause, so I fetched the Chateau Manky for him, having previously added the box front to from a particularly nasty and very fresh wine that I believe is one of his preferred wines, to my collection of fine wine boxes nailed to the big oak tree, as my picture today captures.

A delicate and heady mix of diesel fumes and smog with just a hint of Coronation Sreet

This was all witnessed by 30 or so revelers the last of whom departed well after dark. A special mention for the least coherent amongst us must go to Tony “I invented the internet” Coombs, who could not even say the word coherent by the time he was dragged away by lovely Essex girl wife Pat.

Banjo, the appalling cocker spaniel was hoping for a field day, attempting to steal whatever food he could. It is all about a lack of training, so I decided to commence an impromptu training session, leaving a sausage with as much mustard as I could cram into it on the edge of a table. I think it went well, once stolen and eaten he was shaking his head in a most satisfying manner. One of our guests, Leslie Bufton liked him so much she wanted to take him home, but my offer to put him in their car immediately was overheard by his custodian, that nice lady decorator who thereafter kept a close eye on the heinous hound, but could not understand why he was shaking his head.

For once, there is a clear vista of 2 days without a planned social engagement, before I have to drag out winter clothing for a trip to England and back mid-week. So two clear days to avoid alcohol and ready myself for some London Pride, so I must not be jaded before the first pint arrives.

Today I must follow up some leads to people who can benefit from the services of Currencies Direct, but also have the dubious pleasure of going to Nice to pick up  a new sofa. There is one problem here, the old sofa is still in position, and will need to be moved to accommodate the new one, but no one seems to have given any thought to this logistical problem . Not a case of sofa so good. Doubtless our garage which I have been diligently de-cluttering of that nice lady decorators “valued” possessions will now become  a staging post for the old one for the foreseeable future.

Chris France