About last night

I suppose I should feel flattered to be amongst those selected by Tallulah to come and listen to her witter on about it being her birthday month.

It was, to be fair, an OK evening, marred only by Beattie's usual testosteronically supercharged demonstrations of his prowess with a waitress.

Anyway, it probably has to be said that the highlight of the night of tap-arse was the revelatory confessions that were elicited from each and every one of the party as to who and/or whom they would do that might come as a surprise to those at the table.

It is therefore with no little apprehension that I record those revelations - henceforth known as the El Parador Jaw-Droppers - for posterity over the next few weeks in this very blog.