Diary – 23 September 2005

I was asked, in January, if I would have dinner with the winner of a raffle in aid of the Conservative party. I gladly agreed. Months later Percy and I turned up a polite 20 minutes late at the Drones Club, only to find a near-empty room. The only people there were two Labour MPs who were so delighted that the Tories hadn’t shown that they jokingly offered to give us dinner. An hour later the raffle winner arrived with some tipsy mates and I found myself the only woman at a table of ten. Thank goodness Percy was there for moral support. I asked Mr Lucky why he was an hour late and he replied, smirking, ‘Well, we knew you’d be late.’ ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘’Cos you’re an actress, aintcha?’ Seventeen bottles of wine later, which in all probability necessitated a large overdraft at his bank, conversation began to get more than spirited until in vino veritas one wag remarked, ‘I knew you would look good but didn’t realise your husband would be so f—– handsome.’