THERE'S NO FOOL LIKE AN OLD FOOL



POOR CRICHTON - HE'S THE APRIL FOOL


Last week, Alex decided we should do a little something for charity and show young Braithnose, our work experience lad, that property developers can be as much fun as the next man…I’m always up for that…but I worry he’s turning into Steven Merchant from The Office. He announced to the staff that we were allcoming to work on Monday morning, in fancy dress, in aid of ‘Shelter’. Sandra was a bit put out because when you are her size you have to be careful what you wear, but she took it on the chins, and said she would either come as Big Bird or The Little Mermaid as she already has both the costumes.
Alex insisted he and I should make a joint effort and turn up as The Village People. It seemed odd with just two of us, but he was adamant and frankly I couldn’t care less. I look ridiculous in whatever I wear.
He got the Red Indian suit and I picked the biker costume. The fake leather trousers are a mite sweaty and tight but with waistcoat, chains and the peaked cap plus a droopy moustache, are splendid.  I have to say, I cut quite a dash. 
Alex said he’d give me a lift in to work in the morning, so I wouldn’t have to drive. I should have smelt a rat. 
The full rig was convincing, if revealing and the boots a size too small, but I stuck on the moustache, ignored my hangover and covered my bare chest with an overcoat against the biting wind.
Alex picked me up at 9.30. 
I must say he didn’t seem to have made much effort himself, but he assured me he too would be taking his shirt off, and his feathered head dress was in the boot.
He dropped me at the office door.
‘No point us both walking round from the car park, old man…leave your coat on the seat…you can’t make an entrance with that on.’
The door was locked. My office keys were in the over coat along with my wallet and mobile. 
There was the hoot of a car horn and I saw Alex execute a perfect U-turn and accelerate up the road waving. What a bastard!
It is a long walk back to the flat and probably a mistake to go via Old Compton St.
The man who sells souvenirs on the corner greeted me as a long-lost friend when I finally got back the flat. I suspect he was the one who has posted the Facebook video of me limping up past the Admiral Duncan to cat calls and whistles, in those dreadful trousers.
The staff treated me to a chorus of YMCA when I got back after lunch, all dressed in their normal clothes. Not very original, but I hope I managed to look amused. Sulking never solves anything but I could cheerfully murder Alex. I will repay him, never fear.



Cynthia Comments
   Cook came to me this morning looking very distressed. She showed me a Facebook video on her iPhone. It appears to show Crichton, dressed very strangely indeed, shaking his fist and swearing at whoever was filming. It has attracted quite a following and some rather tasteless comments.
‘I was so taken aback, to hear him speaking like that, Madam. Mr Trehorlicks is usually such a Paraguay of Virtue.’
I assured her that it couldn’t possibly be him.



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