A hasty exit....
Date: 03/02/2011

Ventured up to London this week for a lunch date with a couple of esteemed members of the editorial board.
I allowed them to suggest a restaurant, which they duly did. It entailed hopping on a bus from Victoria and alighting somewhere near Horseferry Road. I won’t be more specific in order to avoid potential embarrassment for both ourselves and the restaurant – as our stay turned out to be a very short one indeed…
Having been shown to our table, and presented with a menu, we all took a seat. However, a cursory glance at the nosh on offer did little to to tempt my taste buds (and that’s putting it kindly).
“I’m not over impressed with the food,” I hissed to my dining companions, who I shall refer to simply as R & D (although a quick glance on p5 of the magazine will reveal their true identities).
“I reckon we should go somewhere else. ” And with that, D and I hastily donned our coats, and were making a break for the door.
“Don’t you think we should tell someone that we’re leaving?” reasoned R.
He had a point, but seeing as there was a distinct lack of staff – and time is precious – he decided to join us in the great escape.
“I feel bad about that,” he muttered, as we emerged into the sunlight and made our way to a tried-and-tested Chinese just around the corner. “I’ll never be able to show my face in that restaurant again.”
“Of course you will,” I reassured him. “Just wear a false beard and a pair of high heels next time.”
Worryingly, he seemed quite taken with the idea…
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