Table talk
Woken up in the dead of night
Staff and guests at the East Midlands Hotel in Loughborough, Leicestershire, were woken at the unearthly hour of 4am last week, all because of a coffin.
An alert police patrol had spotted a hearse, with the coffin inside it, in the 50-bedroom hotel's car park, and wanted to know if there was a body in the box.
The police roused the staff, who knew nothing about it, and then made their way through the guest register until they discovered the hearse's owner, actor Damieon Phillips. He was made to open the casket while the officers checked it didn't contain a body.
"When they discovered it was empty, the police apologised to everyone for waking us up," a receptionist said. It seems Mr Phillips plans to use the coffin and hearse in a series of horror weekends he is organising at the hotel.
A load of cock and bull
News reaches me from Singapore, where a stomach-churning Valentine's Day dinner at a top hotel reportedly featured the latest Far Eastern aphrodisiac - roast bull's penis.
The delicacy was diced, baked in a secret blend of spices and served on a bed of lettuce. Hardened diners could have a side order of stewed dog's testicles.
The hotel's Swiss chef, Chris Schlittler, described the meal as "actually very tasty". I think I'll take his word for it.
Not a champagne season for England
Corks were popping in France last week as Champagne producers celebrated the news of all-time record sales for 1996. A massive 255.8 million bottles were sold last year, beating the previous record set in 1989.
But when it comes to quaffing the fizzy stuff, the UK still lags behind arch-rival Germany. We bought just 17 million bottles, compared with their 19 million.
Of course, as all football fans know, the Germans had something to celebrate last summer, while part of the UK, at least, was left to drown its sorrows.
Thank heaven for Damon Hill.
Savoy grilling for customers
A strange phenomenon caught my eye at the weekend in the American Bar at the Savoy.
It was early Saturday evening and the room was full of elderly couples talking in German or staring blankly into space. Some wore leather trousers, others gaudy jewellery or garish jackets.
A couple of younger people entered, to be politely but firmly turned away by the barman. Then a small group of Americans arrived, but they too were shown the door.
There were many empty tables and yet the bar staff seemed keen to keep it that way. The reason? The men hadn't been wearing jackets.
Call me an upstart, but isn't the hotel disappearing up its own back entrance by insisting so rigorously on this rule? Surely good behaviour and the ability to pay your bill are rather more important criteria to apply when deciding whether you want a customer?
A curate for all evils
I can't resist telling just one more Valentine's Day tale. Down in Ottershaw, Surrey, the Foxhills hotel found a winning formula.
Featuring such dishes as breast of chicken hugging a poppy and sesame crust, or an orgy of potato rosti, goats' cheese and chive cream essence, the evening offered tongue-in-cheek gastronomy.
And with music from Charles Aznavour and Barry White, bedrooms available on request and a priest in attendance, the event was a sell-out.
As the priest couldn't marry people on the spot without a marriage licence, perhaps he was there to administer the last rites in case anyone over-exerted themselves later in the evening.
