The Grand High Master Of The Electric Stratocaster

“What the devil are you chaps doing here?”

“Never mind what we are doing here,” bellows The Dean. “What the bloody hell are YOU doing here?”

Head Of Catering carefully adjusts his wavy black wig and creaks slightly in his leather trousers. Evidently not expecting a confrontation with The Dean, he looks rather put out.

“This is what I get up to of a Tuesday evening,” he replies, a little guarded. “I find it a nice way to relax with friends. Um. Are you supposed to be some kind of tribute act or something?”

Looking at The Dean’s Zorro costume and Head Porter’s rather interesting double denim ensemble, I can see his point. Although I myself am a little hurt as I am just wearing my normal clothes. I thought I looked quite nice.

“Head Porter here has been living a double life as a rock star!” The Dean says.

“Struggling musician, actually” says Head Porter curtly.

“Yes!” The Dean continues. “A struggling musician with his brains in his trousers! You music types are all the same. I say, Deputy Head Porter,” he turns to me. “It’s a jolly good job I came along, you know. Anything could happen to a lady in a place such as this.”

Hmm. The chance would be a fine thing.

“Look,” I say, feeling the need to get a grip of the situation. “I knew that this open mic night was a bad idea from the start. I wasn’t even going to come down. And now here we are, fending off crazy fans and jealous boyfriends. I could have stayed at home with a good book.”

Head Porter looks most contrite and is gazing at his shoes whilst idly running a finger up and down the neck of his guitar.

“Well, it seems a shame to let the whole evening go to waste!” says Head Of Catering, brightly. “Now you’re here we might as well do a song. I’ve just tuned up the old girl and she’s ready to sing!” he affectionaly slaps his instrument, causing it to emit a beautiful tinkly-hum of a noise. It must be said, it is a stunning guitar – a power blue Fender Stratocaster with a scratch plate so white you would think that the angels themselves had crafted it.

“I know a song,” I say, surprised at my own enthusiasm. “Actually, it’s a song about The Bursar. But you have to sing it with me. I am feeling rather shy this evening.”

“Right-o!” replies Head Of Catering. “Are you sure you will be alright playing that bass? It looks a bit big for you.”

“I’ll manage,” I reply, gamely weilding my weapon of choice to demonstrate my proficiency.

And so we throw caution to the wind and head for the stage, ready to relenquish dignity for the sake of rock and roll…

 ‘Charmless Man’ performed by The Sofa Kings featuring The Dean of College & Head Of Catering


And that is absolutely the last open mic night I will be attending with Head Porter. Absolutely the last. It is high time we turned our attentions back to College business and dead bodies and the like.


  1. I play an acoustic guitar–technically it’s a “jazz” guitar because it’s got steel strings and not nylon.
    Head of Catering as well as Head Porter lives a double life? That sounds so hilariously interesting. The things you never learn about your coworkers…

    1. Cool! You should join us on the next Open Mic Night. I have been told that I simply must do another one, despite my protests. Watch this space.
      I dread to think what Porter gets up to of an evening… *shudders*

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