I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know it’s taken a long time for me to deck the place out with the red, white & blue bunting, but it was worth it, don’t you think?
While I’m certain that Stuart and krissa probably need a hangover cure more than anything else, I have still done my best to provide star-spangled drinks from across the Atlantic, for all those who requested them.
Of course, Doctor P, awkward to the last, requested nothing of the sort; but that’s okay, because I’ve got a mess of pottage especially for him.
But, thank goodness, some people are true to our theme, so Gordon may have his Southern Comfort, Ade may have his Black’n’Tan, and Vaughan may have his complicated coffee.
Then there are those imaginative sorts who would prefer me to proffer cocktails. Dave was first, with his voodoo daiquiri, but he is joined by Elsie and her dry martini, Pix and her raspberry manhattan, and D, with a potentially explosive little number that’s lighting up the table.
I never quite know where to seat Mr D and his perennial vodka & twist, so today he can stand.
Poor Pete has been a victim of surgery this week, and still has a face like a hamster. Luckily he is as weak as a kitten, and therefore unable to take revenge for anything I might say about him having a face like a hamster. As he says, all he may have is water; but he’s in good company, as Mike‘s on the same thing.
And finally, we are honoured tonight by the presence of Her Royal Highness, Princess Jackie, and I’m delighted to ask her to make a toast to our special guests, Stuart and krissa… If we could just get Adrian to stop sniffing around her skirts for long enough to be able to concentrate.
Cheers, y’all!