"You were thinking about dancing round the pole, weren't you?"
I cannot lie. Cat has clocked my half-intention.
"Well, I was thinking that I wanted to dance - and there seems to be the perfect place".
There is the raised area directly behind the booth in which we are seated which, along with a table and some chairs, also has its own pole. A couple of years ago when the venue went by the name of Too2Much we saw a six foot drag queen pole dance on there. It was a little mind boggling to say the least.
And now, fueled with euphoria and a couple of Bellinis, it would appear that it is our turn.
I hear the opening to the only song by The Rembrandts which anyone in Britain ever knows. It is more than enough encouragement.
"Come on!" I say as I begin to clamber up. Clamber would be the appropriate word as it is hardly delicate.
"It's okay, I've got big knickers on".
The hold-in-stop-you-digesting-you-food knickers in fact. I can't imagine that they are standard issue to pole dancers.
Cat and Val follow me up as I begin to push the chairs out of the way so we have both more room and easy access to the pole. Because, let's us face it, if there is a pole we might as well use it.
In a flash a boy dressed in black has appeared by the side of the stage. Rather than instructing us to get off and stop playing with the pole, however, he begins lifting the furniture out of the way.
We exchange looks.
"Now that is service!"
As PYFB begins to play we continue to dance. I do not think that Director Boy imagined this when he invited us to his party.