VIP and RIP

I spent a worrying proportion of Monday at the Tabasco Club lunch, the annual London gathering of all those who have ever set foot on Avery Island, home to the McIlhenny family and, indeed, to Tabasco sauce.

The event was notable for the spectacular quantity of booze consumed, starting with an hour-long champagne reception, interrupted only by an equally constant flow of Tabasco martinis.

Also notable was the fact that I inherited Ned Sherrin's place setting. Disturbing on so many levels.