The Vice President’s Lunch was held on Friday 8th December, welcoming in the Christmas festivities to the club. This event was Vice President, Tim Leaman’s first outing on his own and he likened it to the first time you go out on your new bike without stabilisers!

The room was filled with both regular diners as well as The Vice Presidents own guests. The Club Manager and his team did a splendid job of decorating the table and the room looked very welcoming when everyone went in.

Paul Crudge started off proceedings with a very thought provoking grace before we settled in to one of Jules fantastic meals. During the various courses, the Vice President took wine with a number of people and he was delighted to see so many first timers coming along to the lunch alongside the many regulars.

After the loyal toast, it was the time for members to take to the floor with interesting stories and jokes. Alex Horne started things off with a lovely rendition from John Betjeman and then many others took to their feet. Robin Gill gave a wonderful (slightly amended) rendition of “Twas The Night Before Christmas” and you can read it below.

My thanks go to everyone on the day, the staff for looking after us so well and Jules for such a great meal. But most of all to the members who attended and made the day such a success.

Tim Leaman

Twas The Club Before Christmas

‘Twas the Club before Christmas, when all through the Bar
Not a creature was stirring, not even John Marr.
The snuff-horns were placed by the chimney with care,
In knowledge that Goose Supper soon would be there.

The Board members nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of paid-up subs danced in their heads.
Mr Vice in his club tie, Alex Horne in his cap,
Had just settled in for a scratch handicap.

When out in the Churchyard there arose such a clatter,
Mr Vice sprang from his wine-haze to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like… Roger Cash,
Tore open the shutters amid Tim Warrington’s fag-ash.

The moon on the queues outside Rosies night-spot
Gave a lust-filled stirring that made his brow hot.
When, what saw those wondering eyes all-a-blink,
But the Club Committee, all raucous, in drink.

With a dark-haired leader, so witty and slick,
He knew in a moment it must be President Nick.
More graceful than elephants his colleagues they came,
He whistled, and hollered, and called them by name!

“Now, Crook! now, Crudge! now Warrington, Huntriss?!
Oh, Meacher-Jones, Starbuck-Edwards, Oh Murphy and Lawson! What’s this?!
To the top floor of Rosies via the city walls!
Now let’s away! Pour away! Dance away all!”

As thirsty gentlemen that in happy-hour fly,
When they meet with barmen, glasses never run dry.
So up to the nightclub the Committee they flew,
With their pockets full of balls, as Mr Vice’s were too.

And then, amidst the music, they saw on the floor
The prancing and dancing of a certain young… lady.
As Mr President, mid dance-move, was turning around,
Down from the VIP Room Mr Vice came with a bound.

She was dressed all in fur, and carrying a muff,
While his clothes were all tarnished with blue chalk and snuff.
A bundle of fun, they were all out for the craic,
They all began howling like a feral wolf-pack.

Their eyes-how they twinkled! their dimples how merry!
The regulars of Rosies, their noses like cherries!
Their dance moves were like nothing you or I have seen,
(Think ‘scalded monkeys’ and you’ll know what I mean.)

The stump of a cigar Mr Vice held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke made him look like an Indian Chief.
He had a cheery face and a little round tum,
That shook when he jived, all thanks to the rum!

She was curvy and plump, a right old sort,
And Mr Vice thought, maybe, a jolly good sport!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave her to know she had something to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He admired her stockings; she rebuffed with a jerk.
Not deterred, he thought he’d have another go,
He gave her a nod, then a kiss he did blow!

The doorman sprang to his feet, to his team gave the nod,
And upon them they descended like the wrath of God.
But I heard Mr Vice say, as they flew swiftly out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

Robin Gill