July 14, 2018
And now to the party that most likely shortened my life by at least five years. Badminton’s new Duke of Beaufort, Bunter to his old friends, recently married Georgia Powell, granddaughter of the great Anthony Powell, and the two of them threw a hell of a blast. Four hundred people, and each and every one of them properly seated in a giant tent attached to the great house, which was air-conditioned on the hottest night of the year. Personally I went out early and exercised, did my punches and kicks, and then my old buddy Shariah picked me up and drove me to a place we had gone many times before. It was my third ball there, but now it was under new management. I wore a white dinner jacket, a bow tie, and patent-leather shoes. A very nice David Cameron told me that I was properly dressed. The Duke of Beaufort wore a white dinner jacket and a…T-shirt. He is, after all, a rock star.
I sat at the best table, as far as I’m concerned, with the great Ferdi Mount, Tim Hanbury, and the beautiful previously mentioned Georgie, whom I’ve been pursuing for some years. She is now married, so I figured my chances had improved. Not a bit, as it turned out. She flirted outrageously and then bid me goodnight. Shariah encouraged me to keep trying. Then something terrible happened. I sat with a very pretty young girl and her cousin and flirted outrageously and for a very long time. Then I looked at my watch and it was 6:30 in the morning. So I went for a last dance and she disappeared. Shariah forced me to walk home at 7:30. The next morning, after two hours’ sleep, I discovered that the girl I’d been chasing all night was my goddaughter. I am so embarrassed I am not drinking for the rest of the year.