More nonsense from the exciting life of Birmingham’s Favourite Lawyer Adrian Hindmarsh.
Had a spat with Michael Winner – he’s the bloke in the insurance ads who used to make films – and got himself locked in a bank (how many of us have dreamed of that!).
It all started in London at the St Alban restaurant – food described as “superb” by Winner – part of the group that owns the Wolseley, a favourite haunt of the burly Hindmarsh, a man who takes his grub seriously and usually in bulk.
But the St Alban failed to meet Hindmarsh’s exacting standards.
His verdict: “no atmosphere, limited menu and duff service but still expensive.”
So an e-mail was promptly dispatched to Winner expressing much dissatisfaction about the venue.
Winner promptly replied with a letter about himself, a signed photograph and a suggestion that Hindmarsh might like to buy a copy of his book The Fat Pig Diet: Michael Winner’s Guide to Getting Thin – it seems he lost three-and-a-half stone.
Naturally Hindmarsh – not exactly a svelte figure – hasn’t taken the “fat pig” connotation well, but, probably wisely, seems to have decided to quit while he’s winning (get it?).
Anyway, the very next day Hindmarsh was visiting a branch of the Halifax in Sutton Coldfield to discuss various investment options and found himself locked in!
The manager had already left for the evening and no-one else had a key. He was eventually allowed out via the fire escape – sadly, without bulging bags of monetary loot.
And I thought it was only in films that you got locked in banks, spending the rest of the night breaking the safe.
Oh, the ignominy of having to ‘escape down a fire escape’.
But our hero, who works for solicitors Canty & Co, was soon back preening himself like a bird.
He writes: “There appears to be a global shortage of Versace aftershave. I have used the same brand for over 20 years and may have to change to something else – a crisis!”
It seems he toured Selfridges, House of Fraser and others, and all had run out of stock.
Let’s get real – who cares about credit crunches and recessions?
Time to splash on the Versace.
Lord Mayor Michael Wilkes is facing a showdown with the scales.
So far he has done well not to turn Bunteresque despite the vast number of functions which require him to eat for England.
He writes: “I already weighed in at 16stone 1lb (without the chain) at the start of my term – there’s a parlour tradition to weigh Lord Mayors at the start and end of their terms.
“My predecessors have been pretty cagey about how they did and I can be no more than quietly confident about both poundage and cholesterol.”
I can only wish him good luck.