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Parsley fights back

December 14, 2013

“Careful they don’t put you in the pot as well” said That Nice Lady Decorator as I dressed in readiness for the No Parsley Club luncheon at Butlers in Arundel yesterday. She was referring to my bright green slacks, which I had decided to wear to show that, with the exception of parsley, I am as one with green herbs and vegetables, well, at least those not used for decoration or garnish. The pot to which she was alluding was the one that we had asked the restaurant to place on the table in case any parsley sneaked in without our knowledge and was there for it to be collected up and summarily torched should that occur. As it turned out there was a parsley conspiracy.

The restaurant kitchen staff must have got wind of the event because I have never seen so much parsley on one table at any stage in my life. It was not so much a pot that was needed but a bucket. As ubiquitous as grass on a cricket field, the entire Arundel stock of this wicked green organism must have been on our table, which had extended to 15 by the off.  It was a much better attended event than I had been led to believe. Obviously parsley is deeply unpopular and the good people of Arundel had decided that enough was enough and took a stand,I took a number of photographs on the day of some of the parsley protesters but this one stood out. One can hardly tell these two apart. The must be identical twins.


Ted the moustache and Fearless Feckless Fricker enjoy their similarity

From what you have seen, you may accurately surmise that the potential to talk seriously about the benefits of using Currencies Direct and foreign exchange in general were somewhat limited. I would have been better off talking about pirates. Fearless Feckless Fricker had taken to doing his Robert Newton pirate expression all afternoon. It involves pre-cursing every phrase or sentence with a long piratical “arrrrr, Jim lad” and then later, as the wine took effect, dropping the Jim lad bit.

So despite, or paradoxically because of the surfeit of parsley, the lunch was a splendid affair which did not break up until around 4.30 I think – I know it was dark outside – and I think we may have adjourned to the Kings Arms for a brief pre siesta sharpener, but frankly by that time, I had become a bit tired and emotional.

It had started in the Red Lion, where we spotted Timothy Taylor Landlord, the second best beer in the world after Fullers London Pride, on sale as a guest beer. It was there that we met some of the protagonists destined for that lunch and things started to accelerate towards the almost inevitable messy conclusion later. I think there was a bit of that Christmas party, end of term feeling pervading the gathering. The year is winding down to a close.

The problem sometimes with a late siesta after a skinful is that you don’t wake up until 2am the next day, but in this case it was perfect as the third Test Ashes Test Match is taking place against Australia in Perth so when I awoke I was refreshed enough and brave enough to watch the game swing in England’s favour, but probably not enough to keep The Ashes. To do that now would take a bit of a miracle and will probably need to involve Australia’s leading strike bowler, Mitchell Johnson, to suffer some grievous injury. However, I shall not be downcast. i will leave that to the English team.

Chris France

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