Apparently, he’s been getting an earful from the locals, who despite being British, aren’t too shy to tug sweet ol’ Gordo by the ear and fill his canals with a few words of their own.
One friend, V., said Gordon told her (and this is only second hand, so generally from the horsey’s mouth himself) that the pub “Needs some love” and that he didn’t plan to muck about with it too much on the ground floor. Sounds promising, but I’m still holding my breath. The Warrington will be closed in Feb.
Meanwhile, the old staff is generally still in place, meaning Georgina and Gordon and Mirama are running the place while customers are left waving 20 pound notes uselessly at the cute but clueless Simon. Martin is hanging on by his fingernails and sucking up for all he’s worth. Temporary new manager Adam, while a sweet man, cowered in the micro-office during the big rush Saturday night, so I ducked behind the bar to help out.
The eternal question does remain: how many more restaurants, establishments, cookbooks, TV shows, advertising, and pathetic attempts at comedy (ie host of “Have I Got News for You” ACKK!) will the Emperor take on before he realizes the weight of it all has stripped him bare?
Oh, and Gordon (and friends)… if you are listening, will you do a teeny-tiny favour for your new friends in Maida Vale? PUH-LEEEZ get the guys in the Maida Vale Threshers to peel your face out of the window? It really is a fright and just too much to take right now.
Thanks millions, doll face. Kiss kiss.