The Farmers Weekly xmas party was the scene of typical seasonal frivolity.
The usual banality of the Secret Santa gift giving procedure was lightened by the appearance of an edible thong and something else edible that even the Black Sheep is too shocked to mention by name.
Simply rest assured that Miss Deputy Livestock was very red-faced at unwrapping her present, despite reassurances that her other half would be most appreciative.
After the prezzies and the mediocre hot and cold buffet (who serves roast beef and spuds WITH curry and rice?), we settled down to some dominoes.
Unsurprisingly interest in that waned rapidly and general drunken chit-chat replaced the intense quiet click-clack of the ebony and ivory dots.
Our venue – Tiger Tiger in Croydon – was deemed a slightly odd choice for the Farmers Weekly Christmas lunch we thought, but by the evening it looked to be paying dividends.
As the place filled out with non-farming party-goers, The Black Sheep sweet-talked, cajoled and just plain begged various partons to help us prove FW has got glitz and glamour as well as top quality farming news, features and advice.
And with only a few bruises we managed to bag a ton of snaps of “the alternative FW readership”.
Apologies for the poor light quality – obviously camera phones, nightclubs and drunken photographers seldom equate to premium photography.
Father Christmas gets down with the kids
Yes – FW has gone chav. So we’ve all donned our Burberry and bling and are preparing ourselves for rounds of Aftershock and alcholpops.
Mr News Reporter is arming himself with his camera phone so we can document the events, so make sure you visit the Black Sheep next week for the gossip.
It’s been a week since the Awards and I reckon I’ve just about recovered enough to write something on the Black Sheep.
From what I can remember it was a great night enjoyed by pretty much everyone who attended.
Certainly those of you that I spoke to seemed to be having a good time (free champers always helps), and the category winners were obviously thrilled to receive their awards, and rightly so.
I’m confident that this event is set to remain part of the Agricultural calendar for many years to come, and – who knows – next year we might even get some music afterwards.
Speaking of the after-dinner entertainment, time seemed to slip down a rogue wormhole in the make up of the universe as I could swear I only had time for a quick bash on the poker table, a rousing thrashing of Mr Art Editor on the air hockey table before it was time to bundle into the back of the cab and slump there for the ride home.
A quick word Re: Kate Humble, who is much lovelier in the flesh than on TV, and also quite tall.