Monday, wrote Mr. Kipling, the ideal time to sit down and try to drink as much Stella as is humanly possible with some old chums. Under the guise of reminisicing on old times, many strong continental lagers were consumed by two fifths of the attendees in an attempt to gain advantage from an equally shared […]

Now normally, I don’t go in for all this Christmas cheer nonsense. Free parties and drunken revellers of questionable moral integrity – perhaps, trees and baubels – perhaps not. But santarchy looks great – no one can stop 100 drunk santas…. …Looks like I’m going to have to start my own lodge in London to

Imagine, me, the thirteenth duke of hammersmith, in the reception of the hotel with all those pool boys. With my reputation. Having got suitably sedated for the flight home, on which Ramon had assured me would arrive in Hingerland that evening, the hotel staff looked at us with jaw-dropping disbelief. For this heroic duo, having