Dinner with friends,but not Steven Spielberg.

I am off to eat with friends tonight at their house in Monty, now this for a very scruffy bloke is a bit of a game because you see we are eating with folk who by tradition like to dress up for dinner, an old custom not really done by scruffy folk like myself or the masses in general these days. And some other friends have been invited who are ex diplomats who as we know traditionally dress for dinner. So I am left with a dilemma because somehow I need to not look scruffy, some of you will say well that’s easy wear some nice clothes and if all else fails comb your hair something I did once but folk sniggered, so I try and avoid it.  The problem is I have tried many things, many times and have even resorted as a last resort to wearing a suit but the majority verdict on that occasion was I looked scruffy and somehow made a decent suit that had done no one no harm look dead scruffy also. 

Not Steven Spielberg 

What this means right now is that I will be going off to try and look respectable and it may take some time, apparently Zombie fancy dress is not allowed . . . . . DAMN.  So this is it, this is tonight’s diary entry as I am unsure as to when I will be back, I was rather hoping that nice Steven Spielberg might be there but it seems last time he turned up wearing a crumpled white jacket and an untrimmed beard so may not be allowed back in by the doorman.  I may have to keep my fingers crossed and rely on being the mad eccentric British chap, sometimes that can work . . . . . .