To a pub on the Strand for something called the Galley Club where Mr T is giving a talk. Jo and I decide to turn up in support like a couple of office groupies which seemed like a good idea at the moment of conception, but less wise when we realised we had to hand over a fiver each to listen to our boss talk which we can do - nay are obliged to do, in the office - for free. I mentioned this to Derek, my fellow countryman who runs the club and, with his hand half out of his pocket for our contribution, he generously agreed that we could be Mr T's guests. Fabulous. I went up to the bar to get our free glasses of wine, only to discover they had run out.
'That'll be £7,' said the barmaid.
I was awfully glad the attendance fee was waived.
'Mr T was brilliant,' I gushed in the office next morning. Well, what else am I going to say? Be serious...
'And did the audience lap it up?' asked on of the Pedants.
'They were rapt...'
'He rapped?' asked Fran in tones of horror.
'No, the audience were rapt.'
'Thank goodness, I thought you meant that he actually rapped during the talk.'
Well we don't call him Mr T for nothing.... I'm thinking the Christmas Party might take a whole new turn this year.
