I had a splendid night out in the west end yesterday. We went to Prix Fixe for some supper, where I had a most excellent steak, a selection of yummy cheeses (although, let’s face it: it’s pretty unusual for cheese not to be yummy) and half a bottle of the house red. They haven’t been open long, and they’re worth a visit. Good all round.
After that, we went to the Comedy Store. I think the act of the evening for me was one Earl Okin — sex symbol, musical genius and general man’s-man — who delighted and amazed. I had never before suspected that Wheatus’s Teenage Dirtbag was actually a cover of an old bossa nova classic… now I know.