Three Men On Tour: 27

“See, I told you it wouldn’t take you long to go and get them,“ said the bouncer, handing back our passes. “Don’t worry. You haven’t even missed the opening speech.“

He stood back and waved us through. As we walked past I glowered at Harry.

“Leslie?“ I hissed.

“What’s wrong with Leslie? Good name.“

“For a girl,“ I pointed out.

“It’s good enough for Leslie Phillips.“

“Then why was the bouncer trying not to laugh,“ I hissed.

We argued all the way to the bar. The room consisted of a large central area, obviously intended as a dance floor from the number of lights and glitter balls hanging above it, a raised stage at one end, with a number of grey plastic chairs clustered around a microphone, and the bar at the other. Delegates fanned out from the bar, clutching glasses and looking expectantly towards the stage. It was apparent that few people knew each other, I had been worried that the conference was some work do and I wasn’t sure how long we could spin out a story explaining why no-one recognised us. Instead, people were in groups of two or three, looking shiftily at each other and wondering if the large amounts of money their companies had spent for them to be there obligated them to start a conversation. We wondered over to the bar and Harry ordered while George and I looked around and pretended to be interested in our itineraries. George had insisted we brought them along to add ‘verisimilitude’. Since I thought that was a type of pasta I’d found it difficult to argue with him.

“Do you know what this is a conference for yet?“ whispered George, looking nervously round at the other delegates.

“No,“ I replied, “but since I’m not intending to give the opening speech I don’t think I’ll have to.“

“What if someone tries to talk to us,“ protested George. “I’ve read the itinerary from top to bottom and I can’t make head nor tail of it. What’s ‘utilising synergy for continuous improvement’?“

“I more interested in ‘Forward into the future’,“ I said. “It suggests there’s an alternative.“

“We are just staying for one aren’t we?“ asked George. “I’m not sure I can keep up the pretence. I’d hate to be a spy.“

“Don’t worry,“ I told him. “We grab our one free drink and then we’re out of here.“