Nine Texas dairy handles are seated for an evening of speeches, dinner and a mildly alarming raffle
The Table Plan
Shoreditch Town Hall is a magnificent building that has seen concerts, council meetings, fashion shows and a great many speeches by people who promised to be brief. Its programme is at shoreditchtownhall.com, and on the night I attended it was hosting what the invitation called a gala. I was told to wear black tie. I wore a black tie, and I was told that was not what they meant.
The occasion was the annual dinner of an organisation I shall not name, in recognition of everyone who had contributed to the industry. The seating plan was complicated, the speeches were longer than the soup and the raffle was run by a man with the air of someone who had won it. As I stood waiting for a drink, I realised something. The evening was structured exactly like a Texas dairy portfolio, and I decided to prove it by seating the nine addresses at their tables.
Table One: The Host
Every gala needs a head table, and the head of this one is Texas dairy, the polite flagship. Beside it sits the educational wing, dairy herd, which explains the herd side of the business and arrives early to check the microphones. Together they greet each guest, introduce the guest of honour and gently steer the bore to the left.
Table Two: The Gentlemen
The second table is taken by Texas dairy for men, who have loosened their ties and are discussing, with grave authority, the proper way to carve a chicken. None of them has carved a chicken since 2009. They are in complete agreement that it is a job for a man with a plan.
Table Three: The Romantics
By the window, a candlelit table has been set for Texas dairy date, the department of introductions. A couple who have met by accident over the bread basket are pretending it is a coincidence. At the next table a man has taken out his phone to look for the photograph he took of the dessert. This is love in the modern age.
The farm.FM music page has a song called The Barn Door’s Always Open to That, which seems an appropriate motto for the evening. The doors, in Shoreditch Town Hall, are always open. They are simply guarded by a man who wants to see your invitation.
Table Four: The Revellers
Loud laughter marks the position of Texas dairy party, which has already spilled a drink on the tablecloth and is looking round for a witness. Next to them, Texas dairy win has secured a raffle ticket and is behaving as though it has already won the car.
The music page has a song called Tin Roof Night, and another called Legends Corner Night. Both would sit well on the playlist for a Shoreditch dinner, preferably played at a volume that permits conversation.
Table Five: The Accountants
In the corner, a quieter table has formed. Texas dairy trade is working out who owes whom for the wine. Texas dairy loan has offered to cover the shortfall on terms that are very reasonable and a little frightening. They are joined by Texas dairy download, who is looking for the Wi-Fi password and asking everyone if they can scan a code to see the menu.
The Speeches
Every gala has them. A man in a bow tie rises, taps a glass and thanks everyone who has made the evening possible. He then thanks the people who made the people possible. By the time he reaches the caterers the soup is cold, and nobody is cross, because they have already eaten the bread rolls in secret.
The speeches covered the state of the industry, which, as ever, was described as challenging. In the dairy world the challenge is often a matter of arithmetic. At farm.FM, the farm desk put the problem plainly in the headline American dairy cows produce 2.4% more milk and farmers ask if they could try producing money instead, though the guest speaker did not read it out loud. I suspect he had been warned.
The Raffle
The raffle prizes were a hamper, a voucher for a restaurant that had closed, a signed photograph of a man nobody could identify and a goat. The goat was a joke. At least I hope it was. By the time the numbers were read out, four people had left, two were asleep, and the man who won the goat took it very well.
The London Prat has covered this kind of institutional ritual for decades, and its overview of news humour sites includes plenty of sympathy for the man who has to read the raffle numbers. He is the last honest broker in the British Isles.
Five Things I Noticed at the Gala
- The person who promised to be brief is on page six.
- A table plan is a tool of diplomacy, and also of revenge.
- The cheese course is the only truly democratic moment of the evening.
- The band is always louder than the conversation they are meant to accompany.
- If you are given a goat in a raffle, say thank you and call a taxi.
Carriages at Midnight
I left at midnight with a hamper, a headache and an invitation to next year, which I accepted with the confidence of a man who will have forgotten by morning. If you would like to be seated at a better table, take your chair at Bohiney, The London Prat and farm.FM. The raffle is rigged, but the jokes are honest.
For one more toast, there is NewsBiscuit.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/