Jubilee line again

LB: "Oh hullo. Are you still camped out on Parliament Square?"

BH: [sharply] "Camped out? No I don't like that, we don't say that, no."

Getting off at Westminster I remember my obligation to record such sightings for a game we have at the office.

LB: "Er, do you mind?"

BH: "No."

Pizza Express

There were four of us queueing at Pizza Express tonight: a couple, me, and a man in his forties.

We were: Leroy, a West Indian human rights lawyer who knew Imran Kahn and Clive Stafford-Smith; Steve, a half-Chinese dentist who once got robbed at gunpoint by a patient; Flutura, an Albanian accountant who mostly kept to herself; and me.

I know this because, when it emerged there was just one large table available, Flutura had suggested we all ate together. The waitress thought we were crazy but we had a nice time, then the couple went home and Leroy and I went to see There Will be Blood - in different local cinemas.

Then I bumped into Leroy on the bus home. We both agreed the film was disappointing. I recommended he saw the Diving Bell and the Butterfly, he that I should try the Kite Runner. And I have his card and am to drop him a line should I ever decide to pursue a more meaningful career.

Back home there were two theatre tickets through the post, for Happy Now? in April. My task now is to find someone for ticket no 2.

A night with the other half

An Old Etonian friend took me to Boujis nightclub on Friday, where a table costs £600 plus tip.

(That's £130 for each of the five males in our party since Sloan lore dictates females pay nothing in such places.)

Confronted with the strictest set of door staff in London, a large girl who'd eaten with us at Cocoon said she had to visit the cashpoint and never came back. Like Captain Oates' sacrifice in the Antarctic, I imagined it was for the sake of her companions.

Inside and already feeling culpable I was cheered by the introduction of a tall and intriguing girl from Vienna named Clara. Straightaway we started talking about the oddness of privilege and the difficulty of being happy. An hour of dilated pupils later later we were smitten and on the dancefloor I leant in... only for her to turn her face away. What!!

I continued to dance with her for as long as my embarassment allowed before slinking outside for an outraged cigarette. Women are exceptionally wonderful and, without exception, weird.

When I returned she sat next to me and asked where I'd gone, but I hardly knew what to say. Nevertheless I summoned some talk from God knows where and, at at 4am, back in my friend's Mayfair apartment, we drank champagne and smoked and she showed me her new dress. But I couldn't make another pass, and that was that. Now she's back in Austria.

I think one of the more dismal Etonians - my Friend's flatmate - liked her, as he kept putting his arm round my shoulder. Perhaps she thought kissing me would be bad form, given that she was staying on their sofa. Or else with my lunge I'd breached some code known to sophistiques.

(But she'd asked the house DJ to play some Britney Spears. A bit gauche for a Viennese aristocrat, no?)

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly on Saturday was brilliant. Perhaps my bloodstream was still coursing with Friday's alcohol, but I couldn't help weeping along with the rest of the audience.

Big brother on the trains

I was smoking and thinking at a quiet Ash Vale station today, hungover from the brilliant officers' commissioning ball at Sandhurst, when the tannoy struck up:

"We would like to remind customers that all SouthWest Trains property is non-smoking"

Embarassed, I looked around for spies but could see none. I shyly abandoned the cigarette on the rails and remained at the trackside with my ponderings. A few minutes later the voice crackled back to life:

"We would like to remind customers not to leave any unattended baggage on the station"

As I turned toward my far-off dinner jacket in amazement a couple who'd seen what happened a few minutes' earlier laughed out loud. They pointed to an ugly SIEMENS CCTV camera further along the platform. Oh honestly! I yelled to the camera, to the puzzlement of those who hadn't been following.

So I got on the train - readers will have to trust I'm not making the next bit up - and sat down ready for a doze. But a girl who'd followed me on was speaking on her phone. Yes (a live voice this time):

"Customers in carriages with a yellow sticker are reminded that use of a mobile phone is not permitted in these areas"

The unfortunate girl blushed and finished off her call. "Unbelievable - it's like Big Brother!" I said. Not knowing my story she ignored me, thinking I was trying to get inside her pants.

I soon closed my eyes, hoping sleep would get me before depression. But some soul elsewhere in the train had obviously made himself too comfortable. The voice came back:

"Customers are asked to refrain from resting their feet on the seats. Thank you for your co-operation"

The world is increasingly appalling; I might have to start blogging again.

If not quite love...

My mentally handicapped cousin C got married on Friday. Her new husband is slow too, as were the best man (C’s ex) and one or two of the guests, making it quite funny, in a naughty kind of way.

The registrar began proceedings unaware of the couple’s specialness and had to quickly adjust her delivery into little snippets:

“To love…”
“Te ruv…”
“and respect”
“argh spec”

The speeches were inevitably hilarious, and we all wore huge grins throughout. Fortunately the happy couple are blessed with an endearing self-awareness that made one feel unobliged to pretend it was a ‘normal’ wedding.

And it really wasn’t. Apparently, like many such partnerships, this had been all but arranged by the local mental disability charity. C and S were of an age and situation that meant they could be partially ‘released’ into civilian life in each other’s care.

A heart warmer, all told, the only drawback for me being an absence of intriguing female wedding guests.

Getting to know the neighbours

My block of flats had a summer garden party last night and I thought I'd go along, if only to meet the pretty-but-moody girl who's moved in below.

I'd made a couple of elaborate salads for the buffet in order to gain acceptance with the other residents (many of whom would undoubtedly remember my infamous housewarming party last year). Good move: I was taken immediately under the wing of the gay couple organising the show, and plied with free booze and great gossip.

After a few Pinot Grigios one of the silver-haired queens, Karl, recounted a story from the days when a retired sergeant major named MacKenzie inhabited our square.

The bigoted MacKenzie enters the gate one day to see Karl and partner Adam in some kind of embrace. Appalled, he harrumphs: "We had the parking fiasco, then the pigeons... now we've got the poofs!"

In campest tones Karl drawls "But my dear, the three "p"s, how wonderful!".

And just as the old codger is about to explode there is a bark of "MACKENZIE! Is that YOU again?!". All turn to the corner of the square where, fully naked at his living room window, stands a household name Gay Historian - then a resident. From this public vantage GH unleashes a storm of furious wit and belittlement on the hapless MacKenzie who has no choice but to skulk back to his flat, humiliated.

And then there's Louise, the schizophrenic old lady who frequently hounds my poor flatmate about his "unsightly" bicycle. Last night's news was that some urchins had been drinking in the square, so Louise had marched outside to give them a telling off.

Urchin: "Fuck off grandma, yeah?"

80 yr-old Louise [screaming]: "No sunshine, you fuck off, right out of my square you horrible little cunt!" The kids fled.

Apparently she knew the Krays!

The evening ended in the marquee, me sharing a spliff with the poofs and a couple of randoms. I knew I'd drunk too much when I heard myself asking Karl's boyfriend if he was "the pusher or the sewer" (eh?) and had to go home where, gurning over the basin, I managed to pull the mirror unit off the wall: smash! The vomiting began and my flatmate came home to the sight of me semi-conscious on the bathroom floor, surrounded by mirror glass. He and his girlfriend accepted it with good grace. I think I need a holiday: really ought to go visit my sis in Greece, although she's a bit of a boozer herself.

The Jubilee Line...

...is where it's at these days!