Called To The Bar

There are various ways of being called to the bar. If you’re a prospective barrister, dead keen to do all you can to facilitate the functioning of the law, all you need do is pass an exam that would fill the ordinary citizen with a sickening sense of his ineptitude in such matters.

The way most of us like is in the nature of an invitation.

“Come on, Bert, over here—where you been? I’ve had six since I arrived and I can’t do me belt up.”

When DIANE KING received her call to the bar it was at a cocktail party, where the sumptuous decor included a corner bar and a high stool for a long-legged lady.

“That’s for me,” said Diane.

“And very nice you look too,” said the mini-skirt enthusiast.

“No, not the stool,” said Diane, ‘‘the bottle of red Cinzano. With soda water, please.”

One thought on “Diane King

  1. Imagine Nicola Taylor in that dress sporting black FFNs and four inch (or higher) stilettoes.

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