I’ve been cordially invited to present prizes and speak at the annual CTT beanfeast, also known as “Champions’ Night”. It’s very exciting and I’m now fairly certain they haven’t made a catastrophic error, having seen the invitations in print. There is still time for a general recall and pulping though.
I will be presenting prizes to the various winners of various races throughout the year. I will then be talking for an indeterminate period of time where I attempt to explain to confused-looking people who I am and why I am there. It is likely that Sir Michael of Hutchinson will also be in attendance, possibly in a prominent role. I’m looking forward to the showdown; it’s going to be more Alan Bates vs Oliver Reed than Conor Macgregor and Jose Aldo.
I think people pay good money to see that kind of thing. I know the fraternity also wants to see this rumbling gang-war resolved, once and for all. There are only so many combs for bald men to fight over.
I have to write a new speech. I suspect it’s going to be an old-school gig, sans powerpoint. I was looking forward to wowing the audience with my chequerboard transitions and handclap sound effects. I shall have to wow them with untempered rhetorical force instead.
I have learnt many things over the past 12 months, but one life lesson stands out. After the anxiety of Raphagate, I am certain of one thing: i will not be cracking any louche one-liners aimed at the CTT, especially when they are paying for my board and lodgings.
At some point between now and 16 January I may even try to get out on my bicycle for more than 27 minutes. One thing at a time though.