Unlike Tarks, I didn't threaten the light heavyweight champion of the world.
Is that who he was? I thought he was in Eastenders.
Did I dance? Pfffft! I was still in my 20's, played football three times a week and could Pogo with the best of them. I recall Roger was handing out money that night (some of it real), the gents' toilets (and no doubt the ladies' also) had trays of complimentary prophylactics, and you could still smoke anywhere you wanted. Those were heady, hedonistic times!
There were so many Page 3 (sorry - Page 5...it
was the Daily Star) wannabes there that it looked like a plastic surgeon's convention, and by the end of the night I was desperate to remind myself of what a real woman looked like. I didn't have to wait long, as my taxi took me to my hotel in King's Cross for the night.
Just before I left Stringfellows, I was propositioned and invited to carry on the festivities at a 'private party'. They seemed like a very nice bunch of lads, but I declined politely, and never wore that shirt again, nor rolled up my jacket sleeves like a Miami Vice extra.
That London. What is it like?!!