So you went to Paris
to work?
No, I was there on a short holiday. Just a quick visit to
unwind and enjoy some local cuisine. I’ve always loved Paris, it’s a very
romantic city. It’s a wonderful place to soak up the atmosphere and indulge
oneself for a week before returning, bloated and satisfied, to your home to
prepare yourself for your next Parisian outing.
And you worked at the
Olympia when Brel was playing?
Um… no. No, I wouldn’t say I worked there as such.
You went voluntarily?
Again… no. Or possibly I did. I honestly can’t recall. Look
there’s no doubt I consider myself to be a very moderate consumer of alcoholic
beverages. I enjoy a fine port of an evening as an accompaniment to some
quality literature and I’ll consume a glass or two of something in a social
dinner setting, but I’m very rarely incapacitated by grape or grain to the
point where I lose any self-control. That wouldn’t be proper and certainly not
something a gentleman does in public. But Paris is another country. I’m afraid
I was rather seduced by the quality of the local vintages and being on holiday,
I had let my hair down somewhat and the wine rather got the better of me I’m
afraid to report.
So you don’t remember
much about the concert then?
I don’t recall how I got there. I don’t recall how I was
returned to the hotel I was staying in or what became of the smoking jacket I
was wearing at the time, or even the circumstances that lead to me waking up
the next morning wearing a fez and what appeared to be a false beard. I have a
very vague recollection of the concert and of thinking that I was enjoying
myself and being jolly pleased that I’d decided to bring a traffic cone with me
to appreciate the experience. And I do remember noting that the floor was
filthy and clearly required the attention of a hoover and a skilled hand or preferably a full steam
clean and spot-scrubbing. And as I recall I realised this through a very close
examination which I fear suggests I spent some time actually laying on the floor.
Clearly not my finest hour, is there any chance we can gloss over this
unfortunate episode and move on?
You were lying on the
floor holding a traffic cone?
As I said, I think it’s time to press ever onwards.
And when did you get
the beard?
Onwards. We’re moving onwards.
...(quietly) a fez?
I heard that! We’re moving on
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