Having eaten like a hobbit the day before (breakfast at Heathrown, second breakfast on the 'plane, lunch on the 'plane, second lunch at the Spotted Pig and supper at the steakhouse) he awoke Saturday morning with his guts having simply given up and a large undigested mass of food stuck in his stomach. As it was clearly never going down he cleverly managed to get rid of it the other way. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he pucked his guts up. Rock and Roll.
Clearly a light breakfast was the order of the day and so he duly ordered a kilo of foie gras stacked on a loaf of brioche. He recorded it as being, "the stupidest thing I have ever ordered by a country mile." We agree.
Having weighed themselves down they decided to go on a quick helicopter trip around the island. Imagine their faces when the ground-crew laughed at their suggestion that they could all go in one 'chopper'. "You are too fat" was the essential message.
Having forced two of their number onto another aircraft the five left, including our hero, were further humiliated as pilot after pilot refused to take them and lighter groups of passengers leapfrogged them in the cue. Eventually the skies above darkened and a heavy lift chopper hove into view to take them on their trip (after having dumped fuel to reduce its weight).
With the sound of laughter ringing in their ears they strolled back towards their hotel and up Broadway to Times Square. By this stage the tourism thing was wearing thin and so they jumped in a taxi to Brooklyn to visit the brewery there. They managed 40 minutes in the outer boroughs before being too frightened of the guns and natives and so braves the subway back to Manhattan.
Yet another steakhouse followed for supper (he managed to stay awake this time) before they decided to investigate the less seemly side of life. The Penthouse Executive Club was first on the agenda and was followed by The Fantasy Club. Nigel's cello playing was a rare treat.
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