We started a little later than usual, on account of all the Colliwobble Mothers having lunch in the Atrium. Having cunningly avoided, thereby, the first three or four train wrecks, the venerable Captain Chaos proceeded to run a tight ship for the duration, ably assisted by a variety of noisemakers whose musical prowess was such that I can barely remember their names, or, in the case of Michael Hirsh esq., promised not to.
There, that’s done it, I’ve used a preposition to end a sentence with. Much like Rotten Ronnie Junior, only in his case it was a proposition and a much longer sentence, the Judge being inordinately fond of whippets, and not much impressed with the cut of Rotten Ronnie’s jib. But that is another story.
There must have been music played, I would suppose, and some memorable cock-ups. No cock was more roundly upped than the rendition of Four.