Quote of the week: " Well, that just about rounds off my week. From Katie Price being smashed to Smash itself. Jetting setting has never been so varied. "
So where did we leave off? If my thoughts are correct we are still on the King’s Road (KR for short – get with the lingo) and I was supposed to tell you something about what happened at the magical, pumpkin soup and phenomenal finger food infused Winter Bar launch at the Bluebird Café. However, something even better happened the night before…
As you may know, I have just started hosting a night at the well-known and notorious Raffles Club on KR. A club known as a hang out for the Royals and a place where your parents would have probably been in the swinging Sixties. If you’re my friend you have most likely been invited to one of my three nights I have had there –with multiple free bottles of vodka named after a particular coloured bird and a the Italian word for a ‘a beautiful sight’. Anyway, sipping away at my vodka lime and soda (don't laugh) – my Kiwi actress friend asked me outside for a smoke, giving the usual two fingers to the lips to signal this. Now listen here people, I don’t smoke but never say no to someone asking you outside for a cigarette, unless they look like Jimmy Saville because of the rafts of interesting conversations and networking that can be done in the smoking area when people are relaxed, alcohol induced and breathing the fresh air. Trust me, many great things have happened and can happen in such a situation.
Now we are out of the door only to find a woman in some sort of mink hoodie with an entourage of
seedy-looking Essex types behind her. She tries to clamber under the red rope. Who is this Essex gal I wonder? Then I overhear someone say, “HAHA I can’t believe they won’t let Katie Price in!” To my
astonishment, I did not feel the urge to get a picture of myself and this ‘sleb’ – the new improved way of saying ‘celeb’. I felt embarrassed for her. In fact, most people did because no one seemed bothered about her; no one was even taking to their iPhones to snap a picture of this tiny drunk little woman! So I walked inside and left her to it. Kicked out of a Polo Club in Hampshire and now Raffles. I could see the headline the next day: Katie Price is a celebrity, get her out of here!
Hang on a minute - headline, sell, story, pictures, arghhh.
Suddenly my alcohol induced journalistic brain felt the urge to get a picture of her getting kicked out. What a story this would make for the Daily Malicious! Sure enough I raced back outside and she and her entourage had vanished. There was not an oversized boob or see-through top in sight. Darn.
The next morning and afternoon came and went all too quickly, with me trying to attempt to sell the story to multiple publications, unsuccessfully, because, it had no pictures. Sigh. Still, The Winter Bar launch beckoned like Christmas day, when you go to bed the night before with expectations of a full stocking in the morning.
I arrive on my own, due to plus one being late, to the smell of chestnuts actually roasting on an open fire. For a minute I thought I was still asleep and dreaming and was about to wake up with a severe hangover from the night before. But no, this was real. Möet & Chandon was on tap all night as well as waves of phenomenal finger food such as pumpkin soup in little glass mugs, mini burgers with red cabbage and chutney, prawn cocktails on a spoon, scallops, mince pies, strawberries and cream and to top it all off, mulled wine. To say they had pushed the boat out (Bluebird was in fact a speedboat that crashed in a bid to set the water speed record in 1967) would be an understatement on par with saying Gangnam Style has had ‘a few’ hits on YouTube.
FYI The Winter Bar is open from now until 2nd January 2013 so get there while you can. The other thing I noticed under the warmth of the patio heaters and amongst the Chestnuts roasting on the open fire was the sheer amount of fur around me. Ferrets, rabbits, foxes, leopards, were everywhere, dead of course,
around peoples necks and on people’s heads. I was horrified, even though commenting on these dead animals is a good way to start a conversation with an extremely attractive and wealthy female. Dead animals aside this was a solid night to add to my #lifeofajetsetter week.
You may remember if you read last week’s column that I was talking about Hummus and how one should pronounce it. Well, this week there is more to come in the way of food. Following from the scallops and swimming pools worth of pumpkin soup at the Bluebird, this week I have eaten well, very well indeed. I am a bit of a food nut, hence why I have a consistent thin layer of flab over my five pack.
Three things food-wise have happened:
1.) I ate a lot of Smash. Instant mash created by some German Scientist in the 70s, the kind of thing you see them selling at Urban Outfitters next to an old school camera that uses film. This stuff is genius. It costs a pound for a bag, which serves six helpings. You pour boiling water on it and in the same way that the ‘grow your own snow’ stuff they sell at Harrods puffs up, Smash is created. Add some butter , season to taste and you’re laughing. Best hangover food, best after night out food and it takes 3 minutes to do what would normally take at least 10.
2.) I went to Wagamamas. The noodle place where they serve you bowls of noodles in water with vegetables and tofu –something that intrigues me greatly. It shouldn’t taste good. But it does. I went to the one in Hampstead after going to see the new Great Expectations film, which I would highly recommend to all English Lit students and general Dickens lovers. My girlfriend and I were however by far the youngest
in the cinema, squashed between some old Etonian and a lady who I believe was the Queen. Anyway, when my GF’s head emerged from this bowl of noodles she had been buried in for the last half an our, she said, “Do you know what Felix, I think there should be a thing called Poshism,like racism against posh people.” Immediately I sucked up the last Udon noodle from my plate. “Go on…” I said. “Yes, well this girl at work is so rude to me the whole time because she thinks I’m posh and whenever someone ‘posh’ comes in to work, she is so abrupt with them. If anything, posh people have much better manners than some other people who are actually more rude most of the time, but we aren’t allowed to be ‘Commonist’ or we’ll get
sued.” She had a point. At this point I cast my mind back to that disgusting production on ITV2, The Exclusives. Of course, I was allowed to be called ‘posh boy Felix’ but Hayley – the girl from the Midlands was not allowed to be called ‘Commoner Hayley’, was she. Of course not, because she is from the majority, not the 5% who are fortunate enough to be well educated and well spoken. I said to my girlfriend, “The thing is, even though you do have the largest moat in the South of England my dear, you mustn’t rise to it.
Let them look like the impolite one and as they say in Happy Feet, “just smile and wave!””
3.) Finally, ICCO Pizza on Charlotte Strett is in my opinion the best pizza place in the land of London. Simple, cheap and damn tasty. £3.95 for a margarita and they make a supreme coffee too because ICCO stands for Italiano Coffee Co. Get there when you can. I can taste their pizza now. Mmm – lovely!
Well, that just about rounds off my week. From Katie Price being smashed to Smash itself.
Jetting setting has never been so varied.
Until next week, keep doing just that.
As you may know, I have just started hosting a night at the well-known and notorious Raffles Club on KR. A club known as a hang out for the Royals and a place where your parents would have probably been in the swinging Sixties. If you’re my friend you have most likely been invited to one of my three nights I have had there –with multiple free bottles of vodka named after a particular coloured bird and a the Italian word for a ‘a beautiful sight’. Anyway, sipping away at my vodka lime and soda (don't laugh) – my Kiwi actress friend asked me outside for a smoke, giving the usual two fingers to the lips to signal this. Now listen here people, I don’t smoke but never say no to someone asking you outside for a cigarette, unless they look like Jimmy Saville because of the rafts of interesting conversations and networking that can be done in the smoking area when people are relaxed, alcohol induced and breathing the fresh air. Trust me, many great things have happened and can happen in such a situation.
Now we are out of the door only to find a woman in some sort of mink hoodie with an entourage of
seedy-looking Essex types behind her. She tries to clamber under the red rope. Who is this Essex gal I wonder? Then I overhear someone say, “HAHA I can’t believe they won’t let Katie Price in!” To my
astonishment, I did not feel the urge to get a picture of myself and this ‘sleb’ – the new improved way of saying ‘celeb’. I felt embarrassed for her. In fact, most people did because no one seemed bothered about her; no one was even taking to their iPhones to snap a picture of this tiny drunk little woman! So I walked inside and left her to it. Kicked out of a Polo Club in Hampshire and now Raffles. I could see the headline the next day: Katie Price is a celebrity, get her out of here!
Hang on a minute - headline, sell, story, pictures, arghhh.
Suddenly my alcohol induced journalistic brain felt the urge to get a picture of her getting kicked out. What a story this would make for the Daily Malicious! Sure enough I raced back outside and she and her entourage had vanished. There was not an oversized boob or see-through top in sight. Darn.
The next morning and afternoon came and went all too quickly, with me trying to attempt to sell the story to multiple publications, unsuccessfully, because, it had no pictures. Sigh. Still, The Winter Bar launch beckoned like Christmas day, when you go to bed the night before with expectations of a full stocking in the morning.
I arrive on my own, due to plus one being late, to the smell of chestnuts actually roasting on an open fire. For a minute I thought I was still asleep and dreaming and was about to wake up with a severe hangover from the night before. But no, this was real. Möet & Chandon was on tap all night as well as waves of phenomenal finger food such as pumpkin soup in little glass mugs, mini burgers with red cabbage and chutney, prawn cocktails on a spoon, scallops, mince pies, strawberries and cream and to top it all off, mulled wine. To say they had pushed the boat out (Bluebird was in fact a speedboat that crashed in a bid to set the water speed record in 1967) would be an understatement on par with saying Gangnam Style has had ‘a few’ hits on YouTube.
FYI The Winter Bar is open from now until 2nd January 2013 so get there while you can. The other thing I noticed under the warmth of the patio heaters and amongst the Chestnuts roasting on the open fire was the sheer amount of fur around me. Ferrets, rabbits, foxes, leopards, were everywhere, dead of course,
around peoples necks and on people’s heads. I was horrified, even though commenting on these dead animals is a good way to start a conversation with an extremely attractive and wealthy female. Dead animals aside this was a solid night to add to my #lifeofajetsetter week.
You may remember if you read last week’s column that I was talking about Hummus and how one should pronounce it. Well, this week there is more to come in the way of food. Following from the scallops and swimming pools worth of pumpkin soup at the Bluebird, this week I have eaten well, very well indeed. I am a bit of a food nut, hence why I have a consistent thin layer of flab over my five pack.
Three things food-wise have happened:
1.) I ate a lot of Smash. Instant mash created by some German Scientist in the 70s, the kind of thing you see them selling at Urban Outfitters next to an old school camera that uses film. This stuff is genius. It costs a pound for a bag, which serves six helpings. You pour boiling water on it and in the same way that the ‘grow your own snow’ stuff they sell at Harrods puffs up, Smash is created. Add some butter , season to taste and you’re laughing. Best hangover food, best after night out food and it takes 3 minutes to do what would normally take at least 10.
2.) I went to Wagamamas. The noodle place where they serve you bowls of noodles in water with vegetables and tofu –something that intrigues me greatly. It shouldn’t taste good. But it does. I went to the one in Hampstead after going to see the new Great Expectations film, which I would highly recommend to all English Lit students and general Dickens lovers. My girlfriend and I were however by far the youngest
in the cinema, squashed between some old Etonian and a lady who I believe was the Queen. Anyway, when my GF’s head emerged from this bowl of noodles she had been buried in for the last half an our, she said, “Do you know what Felix, I think there should be a thing called Poshism,like racism against posh people.” Immediately I sucked up the last Udon noodle from my plate. “Go on…” I said. “Yes, well this girl at work is so rude to me the whole time because she thinks I’m posh and whenever someone ‘posh’ comes in to work, she is so abrupt with them. If anything, posh people have much better manners than some other people who are actually more rude most of the time, but we aren’t allowed to be ‘Commonist’ or we’ll get
sued.” She had a point. At this point I cast my mind back to that disgusting production on ITV2, The Exclusives. Of course, I was allowed to be called ‘posh boy Felix’ but Hayley – the girl from the Midlands was not allowed to be called ‘Commoner Hayley’, was she. Of course not, because she is from the majority, not the 5% who are fortunate enough to be well educated and well spoken. I said to my girlfriend, “The thing is, even though you do have the largest moat in the South of England my dear, you mustn’t rise to it.
Let them look like the impolite one and as they say in Happy Feet, “just smile and wave!””
3.) Finally, ICCO Pizza on Charlotte Strett is in my opinion the best pizza place in the land of London. Simple, cheap and damn tasty. £3.95 for a margarita and they make a supreme coffee too because ICCO stands for Italiano Coffee Co. Get there when you can. I can taste their pizza now. Mmm – lovely!
Well, that just about rounds off my week. From Katie Price being smashed to Smash itself.
Jetting setting has never been so varied.
Until next week, keep doing just that.