I suspect that many of you choked on your Frosties this morning at the revelation that DCLG staff splashed out over a grand on a night at a fancy burlesque bar in London’s swanky Smithfields.
I too felt a tight knot in my stomach when I read this story. Alas dear reader I have sordid confession. I think I was there that night but I cannot really recall.
We were two weeks into a new administration and the Department was buzzing with new Ministers and their fresh faced keen Special Advisers. I had produced some sterling work replacing a colour toner cartridge with a new austerity black and white one and was rewarded with an invite to a bar. One thing led to another and the rest of the night remains fuzzy. I do occasionally have flashbacks which consist of obese gentleman in tight rubber knickers gyrating to a Biggie Smalls tune – not sure where this comes from but it is not nice. But what I can say with all certainty that this tweeting civil servant never got naked but my thoughts go out to those that may have.
Forgive me Uncle if I have sinned.
Derek
