So it's like this: I have a lunchtime meet with MC Hammered and I walk into the Prince because, as I say to the Wakefield Sage, as well as being Princes amongst men, we may as well be men amid the Prince. So I walk in and amble up to the bar, in the relaxed style for which I am known, and as I walk up there a voice says, "Paps..." (actually they use my real name but you get the drift). And I look and who is it but G C , who I have not seen for the longest times and what's more, dear reader, I have not missed in the slightest. But as you know, I am nothing if not Kofi Annan-like in my diplomacy so naturally I chew the old fat with him while I wait for an actual friend to walk in. And I have to say that the experience turns out to be rather rewarding, as I get to hear the story of the male stripper and his snake who come unstuck in the pub nearest to where I grew up. Apparently there is some dispute concerning a banana, and its use thereof, and a loyal customer decides that it would be more than hunky dory to deliver a short, sharp blow to the head of the male stripper. The stripper is dispatched without further ado, and the customer, who is thorough, if nothing else, then punches the snake. Now, of course, I cannot use this platform to advocate cruelty to animals, which I am of course against (except in the case of slow running chestnut three-year-olds, but that is another matter), but there seems to be something rather stylish in punching out a snake in my opinion. So the accidental meet is not an absolute failure. He then goes on to tell me another story that's even better but I think I will drip-feed you this good stuff lest you become spoilt.
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