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Led astray at Real Man by the Irish bird and her pal with a ring in her nose

Tom Winnifrith
Saturday 3 August 2013

My partner’s parents would rather she had hooked up with a nice respectable dentist or accountant than with myself. I really don't blame them at all. And if they could only have seen the mayhem last night in The Corner of Clerkenwell that is Real Man Pizza their doubts and revervations would have gone off the Richter scale. Put it this way, I awoke to find myself lying fully clothed on a sofa just inside Real Man’s front door. I cannot remember how I got there and I do not feel terribly sharp today.

Colourful James was an early arrival at Real Man with two women in tow. As they sipped Camparis and James downed Curious lagers I stayed sober and responsible knowing that the CEO Of an AIM listed company was on his way for a catch up meal with me.  He duly arrived and we were joined by a colourful member of the PR community and four bottles of wine later we had put the world to rights.

They trundled off and I was just starting to think that I could do with a sleep when fifteen younger people turned up asking for a pizza. The pizzas flowed, the wine flowed, I was sucked into the conversation by an Irish bird and a bird with a ring in her nose which we all agreed she should remove. The dancing on the tables started, more wine flowed, the limoncella flowed…

And so today is a light blogging day.

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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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