I'm looking my best in a client-satisfying LBD (Alexander McQueen) paid for (£1,430) by Karoline (with a K) "because we really need to keep this account darling".
I'm doing my best to smoulder across the table when my host, balding, bewigged and big in babyfood, orders oysters, which I've never tried before. I don't get a chance.
As soon as the first one goes down the hatch, he projectile vomits, goes into anaphylactic shock and is rushed off to hospital. I have to check he's still alive so miss my dinner. And given the virus currently sweeping the little bivalves' beds I may not get another chance to try them for a while.
Now I know your vision of PR is populated by Bolly-swigging double-barrelled lovelies who feel exhausted simply getting their PAs to book lunch, but some of us are working hard in less-than-glamorous circumstances. As an example, we're sitting with the lights off at P&F because it's Green Office Week and Karoline has gone all environmental on us.
She, of course, is marking the occasion by going on a seven-day five-star eco-awareness 'pilgrimage' to the Maldives. Unfortunately, a superinjunction prevents me from revealing with which multiple retail exec in the pages of The Grocer, so you'll have to scour Twitter instead.
Back in the workaday world, there's amusement across the PR industry at yet another attempt to reposition Harveys Bristol Cream as an all-year-round drink for younger people. That will be the living, rather than the dead then.
Apparently we had a try once, like almost every other agency in the land. Ours was 20 years ago, with the theme 'Embalm Yourself Early', but that, like all the other attempts, must have failed. I wonder if it's any good for reviving poorly oysters?
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