BLAZING sun compels every Briton to indulge in alcohol at an event designed for same, whether called ‘Trudy’s wedding’ or ‘Glyndebourne’. What’s yours?
Julian Cook, consultant surgeon: “I’ve contrived a family party, uniting four generations for the first time since lockdown, all held in my garden with a marquee and professional caterers, entirely as an excuse to get shitfaced. And nobody suspects a thing.”
Emma Bradford, valet: “Outdoor Shakespeare. I swear I got so tanked up once that As You Like It was funny.”
Steve Malley, food photographer: “Rooftop bar. Yeah, you got that right, motherf**ker. I’m paying a 40 per cent premium to get pissed on a roof.”
Francesca Johnson, cellist: “The intervention to stop my addictions destroying my life, but I can drink because it’s only for cocaine. Uh? It isn’t? It’s for drinking as well. Riiight.”
Bill McKay, solar panel installer: “Do you even need to ask when the Scottish League Cup’s this weekend?”
