My mate had an expense account at a place he was working for in the eighties - he was something to do with Eurobonds. He used to put me down as a client. He really took the pìss though. One time, he bought pukka tickets for us to see the Bruno/Bugner fight at Tottenham's ground - we were in the Bill Nicholson suite surrounded by stars of stage and screen. I’ve never seen so many small people in my life - they’re all a lot smaller than you imagine them. Anyway, I digress. On expenses, he sent a black cab from the city to pick me up in East London, it took me all the way back up to the city and he told the taxi to wait outside TGI Fridays while we pìssed it up inside, he put his company credit card behind the bar and when we left, people were trying to get into the cab but the driver wouldn’t take them, told them he was booked. When we came out, they were shouting at us and calling us 'Fùcking Yuppies'. He was, I wasn’t and to cover my embarrassment, I told them "I'm a fùcking mechanic" but they didn’t believe me.
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