Clangers overheard and snippets spotted by readers of ‘The Steeple Times’
Ferry & Yah
A PR maven at the Chiltern Firehouse loudly spoke into her mobile. She speedily told the person at the other end of the line: “Bryan Ferry is amazing. Yah. Super yah… I saw his son in 5 Hertford Street. That was a triple yah… Becks and I had such a laugh coming up in the car. That was a yah, a cheers and yah… I didn’t try and talk to Bryan Ferry’s son. That wouldn’t be a yah”. She put the phone down, quaffed her cocktail and dialled her next yah-ing victim.
Milton to Walton
At the bar of The Enterprise in Walton Street, Chelsea, a chubby woman from the Midlands summoned a waitress. She exclaimed: “I want a table now. Outside. This is war. I want one now. Who do those bloody people sat there think they are? We’ve come all the way from Milton Keynes”. Another customer mumbled: “We’d rather you go back there”.
“What is it with these storms?” asked a middle-aged estate agent at the bar of the since closed restaurant La Brasserie in Brompton Road, SW3. His equally bright friend answered: “Storm Doris: I thought it was a terrorist incident”.
At lunch at Sexy Fish in Berkeley Square, W1, a pair of businessmen debated their worst ever mistakes. The winner? “I paid £1,500 to meet Tony Blair’s son for lunch once. What a waste. I wish I’d bought a flight to Blackpool instead”.
A Need for Pecorino
“Pecorino, I need some Pecorino”, remarked a woman with an expensive looking pram in a deli in Marylebone. An elderly gent tapped her on the shoulder and asked: “Who do you and your kid think you are? Wallace and Bloody Gromit?”
The Richness of Wholefoods
On Facebook, Matthew Cranwell posted: “When I see a rich bitch in Wholefoods, I pretend I need help and ask: ‘Excuse me, do you work here?’ Just to keep things real”.
Submit comments you hear to [email protected]. We publish amusing and ridiculous chatter we receive and sometimes we change names and locations to protect the identities of the vain and the vacuous.
I think I know which chubby woman you are talking about. I’ve heard her before. She talks about buying clothes at Chanel but looks like she belongs in Primark!
I’d have paid NOT to have had lunch with Tony Blair’s son.
The yah one sounds like something from French & Saunders.
What could be worse than a lunch with Tony Blair? Two lunches with Tony Blair or one lunch with his son? Please discuss, using both sides of the paper if necessary.