I and Lady Wakeford spent a very enjoyable evening at the Tanz Macabre anniversary soirée on the HMS Goff moored on the Thames. A river which, if I had a garden would be deemed to be at the bottom of it. Some may see that as a not so subtle inference that even though I technically live saaaf of the river I do in fact live in central London. Well the London A to Z clearly shows this to be the case, not that I care about such snobbish tomfoolery. How often do I find that (after cracking their FB account and stealing their details) that the idle boasters from North London fail to mention that they in fact live in the shadow of a Wembley Stadium over spill car park or next to an Ikea cardboard box recycling plant in Edmonton. Where as I have views of big ben (admittedly only the last 4 inches). Anyway as I say it is not something that concerns me.
I digress, it was a charming evening, sadly only spoilt when (lovely) Jo Quail disappointed nay hurt me by withdrawing her invitation for me to appear at her concert of Cello bashing in June. That someone of my stature and grace, a practitioner of contemporary (pole) dancing should suffer such a slight is galling. Even more so as the rabble, not a word I use flippantly but no other word can be found, was led by a certain Paul Sticks. My attitude to promoters is one forged by years of abuse and double-dealing, and that is just the good ones.
Yet with regard to Sticks I kept my loathing and icy hatred under control, and this is how I am thanked. A lesson learned, indeed! Anyway, we had some cake and a gossip and then wondered homeward. Not a great hardship as we live so close to the river, which I think I may have mentioned.

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