Mr. Biggins is showing signs of big night nerves.
Although the ceremony is still four weeks away he has become very irritable and not a little star-struck.
He refuses to talk to me now unless I make an appointment with his diary keeper, 82 year old Mrs. Flagg from across the road. He has also installed a fax machine at the end of the bar.
On one of my daily inspections to oversee progress on venue refurbishment I had to wait outside the club for almost an hour while Mr. Biggins tried to work his new external door intercom. I could hear him albeit very faintly but apparently he could not hear me at all.
I was eventually given the all clear when Mrs. Flagg pointed out to him that he was pressing his ear to the talk bit and talking into the ear bit.
I mentioned to Mr. Biggins that the table ear-marked for the GIT nominees had a wonky leg and would have to be replaced. Mr. Biggins refused saying that all the other tables had wonky legs too and that particular one was the best of the bunch.
I do hope he changes this flippant attitude soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment