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Girls, do you really want to have balls?
Calling out Penis Envy
Last night, I sat in a very beautiful, tiny, Latin inspired restaurant, distilling the events of the past few days over a really nice glass of wine and some authentic Tapas.
But I could hardly hear myself think.
Directly opposite where I sat was a large party of guys, between twenty and thirty of them in number.
It quickly became apparent they were of a local golf club.
They were obviously very happy. And mostly very drunk.
Most were attired in what I would describe as “Old boys club” type clothes. They were mostly my age. There were even one or two with, dare I say it, darker than average skin, though pretty much all had hair of some degree of silver.
They all of them seemed to derive great pleasure from generating a very large amount of noise that sounded exactly like the noises we hear when we tune into something like BBC parliament.
Lots of gruff male laughter and jeers, repeated shouts of shouts of “Order, Order”, various figures in contrast edged blazers taking turns to stand and make some inane declaration, raising a glass, turning to apologise theatrically to the few others of us in the restaurant, all with ridiculously posh English accents. One or two…
