The Grand Old Duke of York

You do remember Spud U Like? Apparently, the jacket had been making a comeback!

The grand, old Duke of York… he had 10,000 men? Heavens, poor Bunty!

Look carefully at the photo above.

Then, there’s something I had suspected all along, but was clearly being kept from us.

Apparently, Phillip Schofield has been doing his own make-up! But for how long? Why were we not told this earlier? Hadn’t it been obvious all this time? Did it take social distancing for this little nugget to shine in public? So many questions, so little reason to answer.

Perhaps it’s time for pantomime. There is nothing like a dame!

By the way, you could have knocked me down with a feather. I had no idea…

Apologies for any innuendo!

Consequentially, as the shop is closed, my glass is over half full with creative juices… and perhaps a drop or two of Mescal. I have a tried Absinthe, which although vigorously stimulating the cortex, any slight over-indulgence induces a trance-like state from which my memory is wiped and there is no Recycle Bin to restore them from!

Perseus, is wfh… in South Pacific. He is lounging on a marble bench surrounded by elfen creatures, supplicating to his every wish, whilst he is overdosing on carbs, apparently, he calls it carb-loading… In my world anything you over administer intravenously ends in an overdose!

He is not taken with the temptations of luxury chocolate, a slab of Diary Milk, or Fruit and Nut will suffice. But there have been Whispers amongst his flock that the Easter Egg Saga has reached his ears.

To Perseus, this is a Drama, not a crisis… However, if required he will invoke the wrath of his father Zeus, should the overzealous nature of officialdom continue.

Corner shops have been allowed to open as essential businesses to sell essential items. According to one or two oversensitive sorts, Easter Eggs are not essential items, and these premises have been threatened with closure if they do not remove the said items from sale… Could you imagine it? The Supermarket chains are allowed to control the Easter Egg market, futures, commodities, frozen orange juice, the Duke’s are trying to corner the market! Heavens to Murgatroyd!

The ‘Mainstream Media’, and ‘The Mail Online’ (Perseus is an avid fan!) have started to blame social media for spreading fear, over-exaggeration, untruths and ‘Fake News’. Where do I begin with that one? The chicken, the egg, the pot, the kettle? Let me cross the road!

Somewhere lies the truth, meanwhile for my daily exercise I have either been walking or running, sometimes I get close to the edge of the Earth, and as yet vertigo has not got the better of me. Mike and I sit there dangling our legs off the edge above the abyss, discussing the veracity of Donald’s Tweets.

I am flatly denying that the Earth is anything but round.

Anyway, back to the Easter Eggs… I am looking forwards to Christmas and a variation of Turkey Twizzlers… As a turkey, would you vote for Christmas? See the photo below… Sugar Babes – Push the button!

And don’t forget the new stock, it is selling out, as one or two of you are beginning to find out!

Copyright © 2020 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved

Remains of the Day

New Stock is the next post down.

We are crossing the Rubicon…

Our own Caesar at the helm, Brutus and Titus Andronicus are close at hand.

We are at War; this is our Sparta!

For the moment there will be no more tales of debauchery, evenings with Bacchus, no snorkelling naked in the snow, although it has felt like that on the bike the last few mornings.

It’s locked down, rather than a lock-in. A tale of splendid isolation.

Boris and Rishi have promised much, and it is time to see some flesh on those bones, otherwise I’ll be grinding them to make my bread; whilst watching Lord of the Rings, and Game of Thrones back to back… I will be a ‘White Walker’

Perhaps, it’s time to become a ‘Superspreader’, of a different ilk, of kindness and goodwill; good deeds and kind acts.

Given the sales of alcohol, and the fact that Off Licenses have been added to the list of essential shops, let’s raise a glass, maybe a ‘Quarantini’ and toast those who are caring for those amongst us who are suffering, they deserve our thoughts and support at a very difficult time for all of us.

Long let this be long remembered, as long as human nature doesn’t get in the way. A leaf out of the anarchic writings of Peter Kropotkin, “It is only those who do nothing, who make no mistakes”.

Let’s see how long that lasts.

This splendid isolation however, does not mean I will be silent, this and many other rantings will follow. Probably at a time of day when I feel you may dull by drudgery, low of ebb or craving sugar!

There is new stock!

I will drip feed it. I can’t have you all fighting and swooning over it.

It may be the last for quite some time.

I will still be available to talk and do business over the phone, email, WhatsApp, and my onlyfans page…

So, if you see a little of what you fancy contact me, we are sending out parcels here, there and everywhere. There will not be the normal quantities, once it is gone, it is gone. Get them while they’re hot! If there is an itch, we will scratch it.

Unfortunately, we are unable to hold anything unless paid for, and as before mentioned, it can also be packed and shipped to you. Cash flow is King!

The shop is CLOSED until we are allowed to re-open. The shutters are drawn and the lights are off.

However, I am in the shop regularly to deal with this continuing ‘online’ type of business. Also, to keep it clean, make sure there are no problems and deal with administrative matters. It’s not online or mail order, sort of somewhere in between, and please do not worry, I am strictly following the Government’s guidelines on social distancing and hygiene.

For those who have kindly asked, my 91-year-old mother remains well. She has the help and support of her neighbours, who have been magnificent dropping food parcels outside her front door and regularly checking on her. My brother and I are mightily grateful, and she remains in the spirits we would expect. Pickled? None of your business…

Copyright © 2020 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved

A Square Mile

From an interview for Square Mile Magazine:

Is there anything that won’t come back into fashion?

Fanny packs worn strapped to your chest. Those stacked, platform trainers that the Spice Girls used to wear. MC Hammer harem pants. Men’s fashion is seemingly engaged in a ‘go-on-we-dare-you’ race to make you look as silly as possible. And, we’re all for it. After all, the world would be a dull place without white socks worn with hiking sandals (yes, that’s a thing now too).

Gentleman, Adrian Holdsworth, of Volpe Sartoriale, cult purveyor of luxury made-to-measure Italian tailoring, believes that the wheels of fashion are about to turn once again to welcome the return of two items previously thought dead: the three piece suit and tie. “Yes, I know offices are becoming more casual,” says Holdsworth. “But you know, if you want to be different, why not be the one guy in the bar wearing a tie? It’s a lot more comfy than having a hairy beard. A tie adds edge. Think of it as the lead singer of the band.”

Next up, the three-piece suit. Now, we all love little Gareth Southgate, but mainly because of his managerial skills. So instead of his M&S (Marks & Spencer) waistcoat, why not try an ‘MMM’ waistcoat, which stands for ‘Middle Aged Millionaire Milanese’?

Anyone who’s spent any time in Italy will have noticed chic middle-aged Italian men running around in zip-up gilets made from cashmere or flannel wool, either worn over a jumper or underneath a blazer with the zip-up funnel neck showing beneath the lapel. It’s what the MMM wear on the ‘fine settimana’.

At Volpe Sartoriale you can order a zip-up gilet made out of the same Vitale Canonico Barberis flannel as your suit, to create a new, sportier ‘MMM’ re-mix of the traditional 3-piece. Said gilet can even be worn separately from the suit with a cashmere jumper over the weekend. “It is a suit, but just a little twisted,” says Holdsworth.

“Men are becoming more confident when it comes to their made-to-measure suits. I try to help the customer find their personal style and if you want to try something a little different then we can do that. After all, the only way to be modern is to be yourself.”

The zip-up gilet 3 piece is something Volpe have been doing for years. Just try not to wear it with a strap on fanny pack.

Copyright © 2020 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved



X-Ray Specs

Pale blue linen £150

Large pique 100% cotton jersey £150

Large pique 100% cotton jersey £150

Pure cotton Giro Inglese £150

Printed 100% cotton £150

Superfine 100% cotton stripe £150

Cotton and Linen blend shirt £150

Cotton and Linen blend light blue shirt £150

White woven 100% cotton shirt £150

Linen and Cotton lightweight strip shirt £150

100% cotton Giro Inglese stripe £150

Summer houndstooth in 100% cotton £150

Micro Giro Inglese Cotton Shirt £150

Micro Giro Inglese Cotton Shirt £150

Quadrant print jersey shirt in 100% cotton £150

Triple Sec…

I have been shaken, so now, I have stirred!

I am out the back, building an ark.

Is this the era of the soothsayer, or perhaps the winter of our discontent?

Woe is me; woe is me, thrice woe…

Thrice is more than twice.

Doesn’t it always come in threes? Why? Because three is a magic number!

Three little pigs, three times a lady, three coins in a fountain. You wait hours for a bus and then three come along together. Three in the bed and the little one said roll over, roll over! Three, blind mice!

Triple Salco, triple sec, two wrongs don’t make a right… but I’m into my second Quattro Bianchi, there is now no woe, and as usual I am making no sense at all.

My friend Omar was right, there is a fourth dimension…

It looks, so innocent, translucent, slightly viscous, the tiniest sliver of lemon peel. My friend Richard was enjoying his umpteenth pint, whilst I sipped on a Martini that should have had a palm tree, rather than an olive sticking out of it; and so, went my evening with an Australian and an Egyptian.

Martini’s do that to me, but worth all the calories.

I was becoming a touch paranoid because I now seemed to be floating amongst the pieces on a three-dimensional chess board and I had become incapable of employing the Pirc-Robatsch Defence. Deep in the back of my mind I could hear Garry whispering to me this was how he defeated Anatoly. Ipcress, tell me, is it the vodka talking?

Then Chandra in all her glory showed me Ophiucus, and I was drawn across 390 million light years of space, down a spiralling worm hole, I disappeared into the darkness, isolated for an eternity, or at least a fortnight. Had I, like the drink, become ‘Unseen’?

Had I become Hades?

Whilst I wasn’t looking, Persephone ate some of the seeds from the pomegranate Moscow Mule I had offered her. It wasn’t the alcohol that was not her undoing, it was the fact that anything she ate in the underworld, tied her to it, destined never to leave. No time to die… she should have washed her hands of me.

Any way back to that ark…

I say ark, but there’ll be none of that two by two nonsense, given our selfish and self-obsessed world, I shall be climbing aboard and self-quarantining alone.

I considered surrounding myself with hand sanitising gel and loo rolls, but Boots (other pharmacies are available) are out of stock, and I’m not sure that going out on a boat made of wood, surrounded by paper and Napalm is such a good idea. However, it would afford me a spectacular Viking burial as I floated towards the Thames.

I had to just check the ingredients which now means, if I wasn’t already, I am now on MI5’s radar… and on that note Bond is having a lie in, 6 months’ worth of duvet days.

Time for a re-write.

The recipe for the Quattro Bianchi was as follows:

2 measures of Belvedere vodka, 2 of Hendricks gin, 1 of Lillet Blanc, 1 of Noilly Prat and decorated with a sliver of lemon zest…

I must admit to being thirsty again!


Copyright © 2020 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved

Don’t Look Now

For those of you who are sitting at your desks twiddling your thumbs…

Luckily, I am still free of COVID-19… and in order to remain free I am not travelling to Hong Kong this weekend. Not that I am fearful of catching the virus, but it is to avoid self-quarantining myself. I couldn’t imagine sitting in a room with my 8 other various personalities for fourteen days, it would surely come to blows, and then a bunfight would ensue as to which one would make it out the other side.

All of them banging on to each other inside my head…

Brace yourself for Storm E for Exaggerated.

I would like to thank the BBC for yet another illuminating story, “How do I stop my trampoline flying off in a storm?”

Tie the ‘£$*^@*’ thing down!

Clearly no one listens to weather warnings anymore, so accustomed have we become to them.

Weather happens, and I feel incredibly sorry for anyone who has had their property damaged by Desmond, yet Radio 4’s roving reporters have struggled to find people who are anything but, either resigned to or sanguine about what has happened, many have been horribly flooded before and probably will be again in the not too distant future. They have exhibited that great British attribute, the Stiff Upper Lip!!

However, the BBC, not only feels that they are currently officially Her Majesty’s opposition given the parlous state of the Labour Party, but is soon to become the Fourth Emergency Service, so rabid is their desire to be at the forefront of everything whilst sporting a North Face jacket and Wellington boots!

Yes, I know I said I would no longer subject myself to Radio 4, but it’s like crack m’lud, and whilst I tried to listen to Classic FM, that was like being on hold to HMRC… I know there are Four Seasons, but I don’t want to be hanging on long enough to live through them all on one call.

Anyway, I will continue to take my drugs like R P McMurphy, and then like Pepin I will try to take Venice.

I was confused and confounded… not for the first time, but that’s a story left for moments of reduced sobriety!

As I crossed the lagoon towards the city the canals looked low, perhaps seas had parted so I could walk across. Hold on, one moment Venice is sinking, the next minute the canals are so dry the Gondoliers are singing ‘I love a Rainy Night!’

It has been surmised that the Mediterranean Sea isn’t tidal. However due to some strange currents in the Northern Adriatic there is a greater tidal surge around Venice, than other parts of the Med, hence the eerie nature of ‘Aqua Alta’. Well it wouldn’t be anything normal, would it?

Researching this, it appears there is as much rivalry in the tidal community as it many other walks of life! Proposal and counter-proposal, some of it left me high and dry!!! Apparently, these strange currents are caused by bulges and the Moon…

Not my first time to Venice as you know, but it was my first time at Carnevale, and not my first time in a mask. My days as Zorro are behind me, but I took the opportunity to resurrect him one last time….

Copyright © 2020 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved

The Doomsday Newsletter…

Stop Press – the Doomsday Clock has been moved 20 seconds closer to midnight… the end of the world is nigh? It is now officially one hundred seconds before the end of the world.

I’d better hurry up then, and get the bad stuff out of the way, so you are reading something more uplifting when the lights go out!

According to the scientists we now live in the most dangerous times we have ever lived in.

You mean more dangerous than during the First or Second World wars, the plague, the Cuban missile crisis or the Gulf War? Perhaps, even a time before the ‘Dangerous Dogs Act’?

And then the London Mayor tells us that our great city is the most polluted it has ever been. What tf… Does he not remember the 80’s when you could still smoke on the tube and the particle pollution from the buses created the dunes of Oxford Street, and snow was black? Where did pea soup come from!

I am officially no longer listening to Radio 4, I have had enough of people trying to frighten us all, it’s pathetic. Now they have Corona to scare us with, when I was young Corona was a soft drink, and I used to collect the bottles to get the deposit back!

Just stop it. I have had four conversations with people this morning who I had to talk off ledges because of all this rabid mis-information…

Anyway, armageddon on with this. Yes, I know, I have resorted to poor humour!!!

Until this moment, it is the first time in a while that I have written this on a plane. Perhaps at this altitude I am feeling a little light headed. Pull the mask towards you and breathe normally, please note that the paper bag may not inflate, in cases of hyper-ventilation.

One or two have suggested that my carbon footprint this year is already starting to resemble that of ‘Bigfoot’!

In reply, I can only suggest that we do not peddle fast fashion.

Quite the opposite, it is an entirely sustainable product. Some of you seem to make a suit last for decades. There is no inbuilt obsolescence, no corners cut, and the only cheap labour is me, and my fingers worked to the bone…

I have Greta what’s her name checking her VAR. She has walked the long walk to the side of the pitch and is gazing intensely in to the monitor, to see if I have strayed offside…

She has a whistle for attracting attention! Or Dixie!

What penalty will it be yellow, will it be red, or just a single use plastic infringement? I am crap at drawing straws… I always have the shortest!

Perhaps it will be points on my old paper license, which I have had over forty years and this would be replaced with a plastic one.

Remember points… mean prizes!

People have even been enquiring whether I have retired… OMG, wtf, bae, lmao…. I haven’t got a clue what they mean, but I am learning to speak Snowflake; and Japanese at the same time. But no sooner have I committed a Snowflake to memory, it has melted away.

And honestly; I am finding the Japanese easier… lol… a very camp friend of mine recently sent me a message which I am still struggling to work out.. FUNRDN4ME… OMG…. the penny has dropped! Heavens to Betsy…

Talking about sustainability, I am not concentrating only on the product, it is also a personal voyage. I am desperate to last longer, read into that what you will, but I am sure one or two will be, and sniggering behind your hand. Whateva’, you know who you are, and it is only mildly amusing…

What I mean to say, is that my mother is now 91; and when I spent New Year with her, she said how much she was looking forward to the American election in November, staying up all night and Donald’s imminent impeachment. I doff my hat to her, she is indefatigable, and I wish in my younger years I had been a man enough to tell her how much I love and admire her. Only in recently have I really understood and appreciated her love and sacrifices for my brother and me. Not because of a naivety, but perhaps because I thought I had been expected, mistakenly in my head; to be the man of the family, when I am still the child.

For someone who weeps at the end of the first Alien movie, you would have thought I would be better equipped to voice my feelings!

Her eyesight is poor, but importantly, not so bad that she cannot tell that her glass is half full, rather than half empty. I shall stand eternally by her side to ensure it is topped up.

We attempted a day of a dry Veganuary, it lasted, but a fleeting moment once we realised our tomato juice really did taste better with Vodka, and Lea & Perrins.

Oh well, there will be another month when we can give up something else.

Perhaps Scentember, when we all give up our boudoir habits… Hmmmm, I shall not be availing myself of public transport…

Life is about balance, and in my case, I am lucky that a small, live elephant is standing on the other side of my scales.

Copyright © 2020 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved


I have that sinking feeling…

Venice in Peril

Radio silence is broken.

Calling Moscow, calling Moscow…

Apologies, I went all Bunker Hunt…

I had been gazing into my crystal ball, it has been staring blankly back.

The face I would normally see, should resemble either Dorian Gray or ‘The Scream’, but it’s not one face, it’s 41 million emotionless faces, silent against the Whimsy of Westminster.

Or at least I think that was her name.

Frankly it was all a blur! I wasn’t looking for business, but it’s strange how the extra 20,000 ‘bobbies on the beat’ all appear at the same time. Haven’t they got anything better to do? I will leave you to fill in the blanks, I have no recollection, as it was the last thing I saw before passing out!

Anyway, apparently, we should be ‘getting it done’.

Three trite words to describe one of the most important decisions in generations.

Getting what done?

A drinking session in a brewery, shutting the stable door, making snowballs in hell, holding a snowflake to a flame?

Perhaps, we should all be holding our Johnson to the flame… Ouch!

Yet, you might say we’ve spent the odd hundred million here, the odd billion on preparation there. Water, water, everywhere, and all the boards did shrink: water, water, everywhere, nor a drop to drink.

Since Pangaea we have been drifting away from Europe by a few millimetres every century, tectonic plates a breakin’, and all this time Venice has been sinking…

I’ve had my head down and my not insubstantial nose pressed hard to the grindstone, whilst all the time trying to avoid the cracks in the pavement.

Has all this been passing me by, or was I, in my apathy letting it wash over me like honey; and what have they achieved, sweet ‘Fanny Adam’?

It appears you can say, or do anything. Hang the consequences, or the legality of it, then debate it until hell freezes over.

And now we have an election to contend with.

We’re just going to end up with a Celtic, Five Star, Right Wing, Marxist coalition. Led by… a comedian with no sense of humour? Who may just be able to commit to a vague promise!

Meanwhile, across the ‘Pond’ life continues, the Donald eats, shoots and leaves, the words coming out in no order whatsoever. It appears he is also obsessed with anything that could be done doggy style.

Died like a dog, left like a dog, a bit of a shaggy dog story. I shall leave you to add your own references. It won’t be much of a downward dog stretch… as he leaves the room with the contented smile of a trumping dog!

Michael Bloomberg has thrown his ten-gallon hat into the ring, and The D is trying to work out if it is fake news or not.

D is biden (sic.) his time and threatened with in peach, which given the colour of his hair will make his face look apricot…

Someone I have never seen dressed in peach, is Susan my elegant, sometime breakfast companion who has taken up dancing to occupy some of her free time. Always spritely, she loves to flamenco, but has also been known to tango and being an extremely attractive woman, she is not short of admirers. At a recent tea dance one beau stepped forward, hand outstretched.

‘Would you like to tango?’ he asked, ‘we can dance it hip to hip.’ He added. Yet, they had turned less than half the floor when Susan had become aware that this was not Rosaline’s quivering thigh, more the demesnes that there, adjacent lies, and it were not a quivering!

Quick as a flash she grabbed her castanets and off she whirled, leaving the scoundrel floundering in her wake, holed below the Plimsoll Line, taking on water, rather than sipping champagne, pass me a doble!

Until now I have avoided any mention of HRH Prince Andrew, out of respect for that great Italian dish, ‘Pizza’, which has been dragged into this whole sordid affair through no fault of its own!

It has to be noted that Pizza Express is not in essence ‘Italian’, and owes more of its heritage to Peterborough than to Naples, but solidarity brother.

Ahhhh, solidarity… you’ll be hearing a lot more of that is Jezza gets in!”

Vintage wash Merino wool cardigans – £175

Copyright © 2019 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved