Plane Jane Treated Like A Princess

I do like a good nosh-up! And where better to indulge your taste buds than at the jewel in Margate's gastronomic crown, the Indian Princess, accompanied by one of the island's yummiest and most talented mummies?

Well, that was the plan last week at least. But when it came to the execution, the devil was in the detail. The detail being the Friday afternoon call from Bev, my agent, to race up to town to do a 'quick and dirty' voiceover for a well known cleaning product.

So it fell to a chum to wine, dine and, er, (well we won't go there) Jane Wenham-Jones, writer and bonne viveuse of that ilk. It was his first encounter with the restaurant, and the writer, and he's just sent me his, um, tasting notes:

8.00: Sitting here for half an hour now. Where is that bloody woman? I've already necked two pints of Kingfisher. Feeling a bit squiffy.

8.15: At last. She's bloody arrived. Mutters some excuse about being held up doing an interview. What the hell is she wearing? Must have another pint.

8.20: Jesus wept. She can talk the hind legs off a donkey this one. Yadda yadda. Can't get a word in sideways. At least the wine, a rather fruity 2007 Biddenden Ortega, is going down well.

8.30: Yes, yes. So you're writing a book. Yes, you must be very busy. Where do you get your hair done darlin'? Traffic Lights 'R' Us? At least my little potato balls are delicious. And a trio of rabbit - roulade, pate and brochette. More wine?

8.50: So now you can't eat calf's liver. What's wrong with you woman? The rest of the bloody calf's been eaten, what's the problem? And it's served with an excellent lamb pate. Pass the wine luv.

9.00: She's wearing a very revealing top. Mustn't stare at her tits. Must... not... stare... at... Oh shit. I think she caught me clocking a swifty. Quick, hide in my wine glass.

9.20: More wine vicar? Just the ticket with the collation of herring roe, fish cake, caviar, melon compote and prawn with garlic mash. Now what? Jeez, she can't remember what we've had so far and I can't read my writing. Yet I am beginning to find her attractive in a quirky kind of way.

9.35: Pissed as a lemon. She's writing stuff on the back of promotional postcards for her book. What's she writing? Something about a birthday party of 22 on the other side of the restaurant. Ah! Duck with spinach and aubergine. Can't do aubergine. Makes me fart like a Trojan.

10ish: Now she's gone over to talk to someone. Mmm, nice arse. Shit. She turned round. Concentrate on Dev's signature dish, the Nile perch. Nile perch. Nice perch. Nice pert perch.

11ish: Phwoar. No... no... really... phwoar. What's this? A goose egg? What am I supposed to do with a bloody goose egg? No... no... it's filled with the creamiest, rose flavoured creme brulee. Mmmm. Licky licky yum yum. You like licky licky yum yum? Me like licky licky yum yum.

Whenever: Bloody fantastic meal and Jane's a real cracker. What? Dev's coming over to talk to us. Keep your eyes off my friggin' bird mate. She's my bird now. Yes. Yes business rates are excruciating. Yes, your wonderful food is very much like art. Art food. More brandy now though. More brandy please. No, no, it's not really a curry house, more gourmet fine dining. Delicate flavours. Michelin mentioned, that sort of thing. Has she spotted my spare tyre? Must... suck... in... stomach... bollocks I just let off a silent one. Hope it isn't too deadly.

Wheneverer: Cab home. We're sharing a cab home. If I just brush up against her thigh maybe she'll cotton on. Wish I hadn't drunk so much. Wish I'd had more to drink. If I touch... this... er... crap, she's getting out. Oh well, didn't really fancy her anyway.

[That's enough tasting notes - Ed]

Click here for Jane Wenham-Jones' version in today's Gazunder
Dev says 'business as usual' in yourfannitinnit
Click here for the Indian Princess website
Rename the Princess on Facebook and win dinner for two!