The Near Pavillion – Issue 59

Posted by in December's Magazine

Christmas is a difficult time of year for many regular ‘Leither’ readers – average wage packets combined with the stress and strain of visiting family and friends, the bourgeoning bill at the local sauna, Christmas dinner with all the trimmings… it all adds up to a tough time for Joe Soap… poor old Joe Soap.

But my Christmas message to you this year is simple – we are all Jock Tamson’s bairns and in no way is this better validated than my last Caribbean holiday.



I don’t know about you (though I have my suspicions) but I prefer to head off to warmer climes for the festive season – Barbados to be exact. Home to close friend and confidant, Sir Cliff Richard. Sir Cliff is a true pal, whether we’re surfing at Bashiba bay, slapping down ‘the doms’ in downtown Bridgetown or toasting it up in an old fashioned stylee at the Mount Gay brewery he’s always good fun.

So it’s with a devoted sense of duty to my ever growing readership and their simplistic hardships that I feel I have to share the events of last Christmas so that we can, through the medium of the written word, broaden our horizons and in some small way share the human burden.

Sir Cliff is a devout Christian and therefore Christmas, the dinner, the holidays, the presents, the guests, the wines, the poppers, and the snake charmers, all add up to a serious proposition.

No more serious than my bowel problems as it turned out. I’d had a dicky stomach all week but I thought I was over the worst of it – not so – settling down to write this I had initially thought of an easy way to describe the events of that fateful day, but it’s The Leither and there is no easy way, so lets get down to it. At the very start of the meal – just after the Lord’s Prayer I lost control of my bowels. That’s right I bluffed in my breeches, soiled my sandal bag. But knowing how strict Sir Cliff can be during Christmas dinner, I had to stay silent – word wise that is. Soiled pants say so much more than words ever will. Thank god for Cliff’s black labrador (Inky). It seems like a shame, but Inky took all the blame for my sphincter malfunction. Well, not all the blame, as a wildly flatulent Chris Biggins took some of the heat off. Still, after the prawn cocktails and several delightful melon balls, I took the chance to slip off to the toilets. As far as soiling goes this was top drawer (weighty) the only option I had was to get rid of the offending articles and blocking the toilets with underpants on Christmas day was simply not an option – would we get a plumber! I think not! So I thought flinging the chappies out of the window and into the dense undergrowth next door would be the best option. It turned out this wasn’t the best option. A poorly judged throw, combined with slippage of foot, left said garments short of the undergrowth and slap (and I do mean slap) bang on top of the conservatory in which we were eating. Returning to the Christmas table was perhaps close to being one the most embarrassing moments during my friendship with Cliff. It took me a full ten minutes to gather the strength to go back and face the table – Bowie, Weller, Biggins, Cowell, Le Bon, Taylor (Phil), Tyler (Bonnie) and Karpets (Vladimir). Louie Walsh had been there but he and Simon had fallen out over the choice of dessert wine. Luckily Cliff had already seen the funny side and by the time I had slunk down the three flights of stairs he had gathered Simon Cowell, David Bowie and Biggins together for an impromptu rendition of ‘Congratulations.’ Cowell was particularly enthusiastic using a pair of giant foam hands to point at my special, collectors edition, General Pinochet Calvin Kleins resting directly overhead. I have to say it was a struggle not to just up and leave there and then. Luckily Paul Weller chose this moment to give a full rendition of ‘That’s Entertainment’.

Later that evening over cocktails Cliff told me that in years to come I could look back and laugh at the whole situation and, you know, I think he was right.Goodwill, yours Leo.

2 responses to “The Near Pavillion – Issue 59”

  1. Callum Alden says:

    this made doctor pepper come out my nose. i was attempting to drink and read at the same time: bad move. I want a T-Shirt that reads "i soiled my sandal bag"

  2. Here the homepage for amazon free gift card codes online.

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