The Diary and friends were looking forward to a convivial evening with PR agency Propeller.
A few drinks, a bit of food and some stimulating chat in a swish London bar to build those all-important relationships.
Unfortunately, even professionals in the communications industry can get their wires crossed. Instead of swaggering into some classy joint, the Diary found itself looking for its hosts outside a brothel in Bayswater.
“This is the tarts’ hotline,” said the recorded message on the club’s phoneline. “Fax Mike now to answer all your queries.”
The Diary, being of a sensitive disposition, made its excuses and left.