Dinner with Radiohead

It all sounded so promising.

I have written about Aziz, his fabulous restaurant and his long-time acquaintance with Miles before (back on November 22 last year). Last time we were in there he was name dropping that Radiohead (sometime Aziz regulars, apparently) were coming to his fundraising evening.

Oooh, said Miles, can we come too? So he took our phone number and said he would ring and let us know.

And the night before, he did. Would we like to come and fundraise with Radiohead? Of course we bloody would. Smart lounge suit, he said. Fine, we said.

So on Tuesday night, S and I were scrabbling round looking for posh clothes and make up, and Miles was wailing because his nearly-only-tie had a big food stain on it.

I emerged wearing my scarf pashmina-style and looking rather elegant, I thought, but S laughed her socks off at me and said I looked like the posh woman across the road. She had enormous hair and high heeled boots on, and was looking very rock chick apart from the fact that she couldn't actually walk properly. We recruited C the sax player from the Limitations as number four, as unlike S's Quiet Man he a) has a suit and b) likes Radiohead.

And off we went.

When we arrived we felt profoundly self-conscious. Where should we sit? Sit anywhere you feel comfortable, said Aziz, how about over there in the corner behind that pillar? So we trotted off there and watched as the place filled up with civic dignitaries and people who looked like estate agents and estate agents' wives. (These people turned out actually to be estate agents and estate agents' wives).

Where were Radiohead? Where, in fact, was anyone under 50 who was not wearing one of the following: loud tie, novelty cufflinks, dress with no straps a couple of sizes too small?

Hmmm. But we liked the family we were seated with, who were also probably more comfortable at the back, we ate our unquestionably delicious dinner, and then it was time for the speeches.

There are some people who couldn't make it, said Aziz. Radiohead, they haven't managed to come. But we do have another very good local band here, we haven't got Radiohead, but we do have the Limitations!

And everyone clapped.

Later on, a football that doesn't actually exist yet but that will definitely be signed by Manchester United when it does was auctioned for £350, we all got a chocolate moulded in the shape of a position from the Kama Sutra, and one of the loud tie brigade offered to sing American Pie if someone donated £50. Foolishly, someone did.

Finally, Aziz insisted that Miles got up to sing, as the resident rock star. We all wanted to die on his behalf, but he survived the experience by insisting on a duet of Hound Dog with Aziz himself, who had offered to sing Elvis earlier in the evening.

Surreal is a much over-used word, but I think it is genuinely valid in this case. We were had by a pro.

But if Aziz hadn't told us that Radiohead were coming, we probably wouldn't have gone, and the Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Paralysed in Bangladesh, an undoubtedly good cause, wouldn't have had all our jelly and treasure hunt money and more besides.

And if Radiohead *had* been there, we probably wouldn't have laughed nearly so much. Also, Thom Yorke would have had to get up and sing an Elvis song instead, which might well have finished him off.

So if you look at it like that, everyone's a winner.

joella