Greg, he of cougar fame, has complained he’s not getting it often enough. I thought once a month would be enough for him, but he’s continued to gripe. So I’ve relented but I can’t say whether I’ll be making a habit of it. However I may just dispose of the months and send the newsletter when it suits me, or just when I’m bored, which is most of the time, according to you lot. At least I’ll refrain from tweeting every pip and squeak like Jemima Khan.
A bit like Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption, I’ll write it twice a month, ensuring that at least Greg gets something more often. He could even use the powers of the newsletter as a seduction tool; a literary blue pill. He’s off to a wedding in Firenze next month and has confided his hopes that by being mentioned in the newsletter he might strikes it lucky with bridesmaids. I don’t know if Pippa is going to be doing the honours again but if so he’ll be in a long queue behind her.
I’ve continued to work in the window inspired by the success of streets in Hamburg and Amsterdam – not my success; more my tribute. I shall be reviewing my wardrobe though and perhaps donning something more revealing.
I wore shorts to work last week, and before you suggest an alternative, more popular was the rip in the derriere of my trousers created by stepping out of the window. Thank goodness I was wearing something more substantial underneath, rather than the usual thong.
That reminds of a friend who used to work behind the bar at the Embassy Club, many years ago. The uniform was a white vest and the tiniest red satin shorts. Limahl from Kajagoogoo used to try to outdo him in a tutu. Well come on, it was the Eighties and excess was de rigueur, although how my friend’s shorts amounted to excess I’ll never know, unless of course we’re talking about the overspill.
The other morning we were saved by Jason at the Wolseley; breakfast was to be taken in an antechamber until he stepped in. Thankfully normal service was restored and the earth continued to turn. I mean, how could I be seen to sit just anywhere? Does nobody know who I am?* Obviously not. Has my infamy not spread far and wide? Yes, yes in for me, in for me, they’ve all got it in for me. I know it’s an old joke.
But now you’ll be happy to know there will be twice as many…………..And please do not complain about the amount of French I am starting to use in the newsletter. It appears many of you have spam filters more sensitive than you are.
And just for Jake, are Wolves safe? He’ll hate that, because now I’ve jinxed them.
By the way Greg, Happy Birthday for tomorrow….don’t think I’ll make a habit of personalising newsletters to all and sundry.
*A certain celeb with an injunction is regretting asking that of a prostitute. She didn’t but Google was her friend and so was Max Clifford.
Sent from my iPad
Copyright © 2011 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.