Diary of a Menopausal Man

No. of hours sleep before work - 3
Hangover rating on a 1-10 scale - 10
Humilation factor as my memory returns - off the scale

It's morning and I'm still alive. Today that's not necessarily a good thing. I have a world class hangover, and I'm gradually starting to remember much, much, much more that I want to about last night. Did I really do the Gary Glitter dance when I was singing? And what about this nagging feeling - surely I couldn't have done 'Wild Boys' as a duet with Country Jack? If anyone who knows me was in the audience, I may have to kill myself. Or move to Swindon or Milton Keynes. (Yes, I know, it's pretty much the same thing).

Things started to pick up around lunchtime when my PA, Tottie, told me that she'd heard that the company is renewing all our company cars early as part of a high level drive with a new global automotive partner. I spent the afternoon comparing notes with the guys. H had heard rumours about a new strategic account with Porsche, which sounded pretty darn promising. He wants a silver 911, but - to my mind - you can't beat red. L is so rich he has his own Bentley, so he wasn't bothered. But the sky started to fall in around 4 when a corporate announcement came out about our new company programme,'Saving the World'. Apparently, our contribution to 'Saving the World' is that all company cars will be recalled and replaced by a green alternative - the Toyota Prius. In green, with a company logo on the door.

This is war - I won't take this lying down.

It's just after midnight, so hope this still counts as yesterday? What a night.

No of impure thoughts - 23 (still mostly about Chelsea; I guess she's the queen of my heart, no matter how gorgeous Aston and Roma are). And a few hundred extra bonus thoughts about Crystal (see below)
No. of cigarettes inhaled as people walk by - Hundreds (why did I bother giving up?)
No. of indelible public humiliations - 1
No. of death wishes about my main client - 1

The reason why I'm so late putting in this entry is that I had to take my main client (Jack the country bumpkin) to dinner tonight. Dinner itself was OK - I can always rely on The Ivy to give him the opportunity to ogle a few stars on his one night a year up in the 'big city'. It's the bit afterwards I dread most. Last year wasn't so bad, as he wanted to go to Stringfellows. I still have 'warm memories' of Crystal, who certainly knew how to make a big impresssion!! She was worth every penny (even if the ethics code meant that I couldn't charge her to expenses). But guess what his special request for after-dinner entertainment was this year? - karaoke. After I got over my initial horror, I suggested Lucky Voice, an upmarket karaoke bar that my friends J and H have visited. The rooms are very private, with a bar service, so at least you can drink to numb your embarrassment and know that no-one outside the room can hear you. But no, country Jack wanted to go to the noisiest, nastiest, most public karaoke pub in the whole of Soho. The memory of me having to sing his special request 'I'm the Leader of the Pack' in front of that crowded bar will haunt me forever..... I wonder if I can charge a hit man to expenses, or if that would also be against the code of conduct?