• When I was a courier I delivered something to the Mandarin hotel or whatever it's called, on Knightsbridge opposite Sloane St.
    In the concierge there was this tiny man of unknown origin, somewhere in Asia but that's all I could go on, who kept asking me about my hat, which for some reason excited him greatly.

    I was wearing a Daccordi cycling cap, to which he would point in an animated fashion and shout BAKADI! BAKADI! in a really short, mental bursts. Like a kid in a candy store.

    I think his name was Sherbert or something equally amazing.

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