The Diary was enjoying an after-work pint in the Olde Cheshire Cheese on Fleet Street the other night, only to be buttonholed at the bar by a loud and virtually incoherent drunk staggering around trying to engage in conversation. He was saying things like “Law Shociety”, “Shancery Lane” and “loadsh of booze”.
Imagine The Diary’s surprise when he turned out not to be a lawyer. He had, in fact, been the guest of his solicitor at a Law Society do and had obviously been enjoying the firm’s hospitality to the full. One felt sympathy for the poor Radcliffes partner accompanying him who had to bring the barfly back down to earth. He fixed him with a stern look and politely but firmly encouraged him to pipe down and behave himself. The Diary trusts the said partner sent a bill for this sensible advice.
