What’s the funniest misunderstanding you’ve ever been part of?
In my early twenties, I had a London girlfriend whose gay hairdresser friend also performed cabaret at the Piano Bar in Soho. One evening, we went along to see his act.
I found myself chatting to a young man about my age who had come with his sister. He seemed nervous and admitted that he had never “done this before.”
“Neither have I,” I said reassuringly. I explained that a family friend was performing and that I had come with my girlfriend.
We carried on talking quite happily throughout the evening. Only when the show ended did I realise that he thought I was another hesitant young man making his first visit to a gay bar—and that my “girlfriend” was merely the female friend providing moral support.
Then our gloriously larger-than-life hairdresser, fresh from belting out Shirley Bassey, swept over to join us.
I departed with my girlfriend, leaving my accidental new beau in very capable hands.
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