That's The Way To Do It

The year was 1975. I was young and foolish in those days. I had been invited to a fancy dress party in Central London. I dislike fancy dress parties but I went along on this occasion because I didn't have anything else to do. I wore a navy blue and white striped T-shirt and navy blue trousers and said I was a gondolier.

At this particular fancy dress party, I met a well-built man called Cuthbert Winterbottom. He was said to be extremely anti-semitic and was a member of the National Front. He turned up dressed as Hitler. I thought his choice of clothing was in appalingly bad taste so I decided to take him to task. I approached him and he appeared both drunk and stoned. I asked him where he hired his uniform and he replied "Sainsbury's" which confirmed my suspicions that he was very drunk indeed, as well as being proverbially stupid. I happened to hear him say that he was short of money. I took him by the hand and led him out into the corridor.

"I've got a brilliant idea," I said to him. "I know a very rich man in Kensington called Mr Lenin* who is a homosexual pervert and who likes burly men in Nazi uniforms to break into his house and spit in front of his portrait. His portrait won't be difficult to find. He's a bald-headed, nondescript-looking man wearing a waist-coat, tie and jacket. He will watch you from over the bannisters. If he likes your performance, he will throw down five hundred pounds in cash and ask you to perform fellatio† on him afterwards."

Winterbottom was so drunk that he found this acceptable. It was almost two o'clock in the morning. He tumbled into the passenger's seat of my Mini Clubman Estate and slumped over the dash.

"I say, you're not going to be sick, are you?" I asked, anxiously.
"No," he replied. He didn't sound very convincing

I drove him from Hyde Park Corner to Kightsbridge and on to Kensington Gore. From there I swerved into Kensington Park Gardens. A sentry sprang from his box to stop my Mini Clubman but I drove straight at him. He jumped out of the way.

I remembered where the Soviet Embassy was because I had been there several times in my Communist days, when I regularly took flowers there on anniversaries. I screeched to a halt outside the Soviet Embassy and told Winterbottom to get out of the car.

*Leader of the Bolshevik Party and revered founder of the Sovet State.
†Oral sex

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©2011 Eleanor Berry. Site design by Henry Coate.