The unescapeable lure of mincemeat..
At a Christmas charity do to raise awreness for cancer/AIDS/diabetes, I forget which one, the guest of honor was none other than wrinkly eighties question master "can I have a B please" Bob Holness.

This in itself made the whole turgid affair bearable as Bob was a legend. No arguments there, his friendly yet professional delivery of tricky letter based questions would put many young "quizmasters" today to shame. Yes I'm taliking about you Dermot Murnaghan, Eggheads my foot, I've never seen such a bunch of arrogant jumped up nob jockeys in my life.

The charity do involved some singing, some talking, more singing and some more talking, fascinating stuff I'm sure you'll agree. It was also rather long and by the end I was clammering forr food like so many tracksuited charvers queing outside Slutty Fried Offal.

To allivate my hunger I raided the aftershow party, WTF, with gusto and extreme prejudace towards the meat based snacks. My irrepresable urge to stuff my engorged (tee hee) stomach lead me down the slippery slope to ruin.

As I slipped the last delicious mince pie into my cavenous gob an erudite and strangly familiar voice echoed in my ear.

"Was that the last mince pie" it said with undisclosed menance.

"Yes...sorry" I mumbled through butter pastry and raisins.

"Well I haven't had any yet taht was really rather selfish" Bob continued, in a tone reminisant of your parents expressing disapointment.

"Sorry" was all I could say before sulking out of his cold accusing glare.

I was told off by Bob Holness and could'nt even manage a witty "Can I have a pie please Bob" style comeback.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 21 Sep 2007, 9:42, Reply)