Home safe

A week ago Brome went on a boys' night out and rocked up home just after the milkman delivered. It then took him seven days to realise he was now walking round in the wrong coat. Several calls later he'd tracked it down to a bar off Leicester Square. Yours truly had the job of collecting and escorting it home via a girls' night out. It struck me that it would be fitting if it spent another week in a Soho joint, but sadly I must be losing my form. So Brome's coat had a happy home-coming and his mate, Martin, gets his coat back too. Complicated.