Just another mad night out at the local bad-food gastropub

We were enjoying our evening at the overpriced gastropub until a woman in a dark uniform appeared at our table. She didn’t introduce herself or explain why she was there, and the first thought that entered my head was that we were being arrested.

It was partly that the woman was extremely well built and wearing a navy gabardine jacket and trousers. But it was also because we were with Anthony.

I looked across at the builder boyfriend’s wayward friend, a tanned, blond, spiky-haired estate agent who is a dead ringer for Shane Warne. He was spooning French onion soup into his mouth in between downing vodka shots and I thought: ‘Oh no, what has Anthony done now?’

Anthony’s office is just down the road from the BB’s work yard so they have lunch together in the caff. As well as selling houses, he is fond of telling people he’s a qualified hairdresser, a chef of some standing, an artist and a potter.