'Businessmen Behaving Badly'

I recently received my invitation to The Summer Regional Businessman's Lunch, an event heralded upon the embossed card, requesting the pleasure of my company, as an opportunity to sample fine cuisine, select wines, celebrated speakers and the prospect of networking with the captains of industry.

I am in the main obliged to take issue with this little piece of stationery as my past experience of these events recalls tepid grey food, thin but very expensive wine, boring speeches and captains of industry who in the main would have done us all a favour by remaining corporals.

However there was one exception. Some years ago I attended this very event as a guest of a very good friend of mine who sits high in the UK Rich List. No one knows, including both him and me, why he deems to be my friend but it is just one of life's mysteries.

Our table consisted of seven millionaires, one almost millionaire, me and a golf caddy. I was beginning to feel a little better when the golf caddy informed me that he too had made his millions in business before becoming bored and dropping out to tour the world on the bag of a famous European golfer.

My tennis playing compatriot Spicer was the almost millionaire and Offenbach the eye specialist one of the magnificent seven. Now the latter is a tad elitist, in the nicest possible way. He genuinely believes that everyone spends a thousand pounds on a room at Gleneagles when the urge for a round of golf takes them and that all people change their cars when the initial pile wears off the carpets. So these functions of food produced en mass and wine served not of a certain vintage are not really his scene.

A great deal of alcohol was consumed in the bar of the five star hotel before the guests were ushered into the ball room where lunch was served. Much wine was drunk as various speakers affirmed why it is that I don't attend more of these occasions. The starter came and went along with more wine and the atmosphere in the room became decidedly rowdy. A blue comedian took to the stage during courses but after a short time stormed off because the audience was too rude.

Party hats were on each table and the golf caddy chose a natty looking fez. Nigel a Gentleman Farmer friend of Wren my host thought it a good idea to set light to the tassel and there was a distinct smell of singed hair before the latter put him out with a rather expensive bottle of Montrachet.

As the main course was served an altercation took place in the middle of the room. It seems that one table had thought it amusing to throw ice cubes at another table but took exception when the other table threw an ice bucket back at them. The fight that followed was like a bar room brawl in a western B movie. The Master of Ceremonies was all for calling the police until it was pointed out that one of the tables involved in the scuffle was the police.

Punches flew and bodies and furniture hit the floor and everyone not actually involved in the fracas strained for a good view by standing on the chairs and tables. I found this a bit childish of course, but was obliged none the less to push Nigel off our table as he was blocking my sight of the action. As I did this I felt a tug on my leg and looked down to see Offenbach prodding his food around his plate. "Clarky" he said "Do you think that these vegetables are a bit soggy?"

Alas I fear that the excitement of the above occasion was a one off and subsequent "Lunches" proved to be boring and sober episodes so this year I felt able to decline the invitation and informed the Businessman's Committee that unfortunately on the afternoon of their event I had a pressing engagement to de-flea the cat...