I was whisked off a table today to wish happy birthday to a member of staff on the microphone in front of the whole club to ensure maximum embarassment on his 40th birthday.  I think the supervisor asked me to do it i) because the only other person willing to do it would be Simon Trumper who wasn’t there; and ii) because i wouldn’t mind making a fool of myself. 

Never one to shy from the centre of attention, I made sure everyone knew it was Tournament Director Dave’s fortieth and tried my best to lead a chorus of Happy Birthday.  A few moments after launching into the song, I became aware that only a handful of the 200 people in the room were really with me.  I instinctively chose to amp up the performance as opposed to shrinking away like the proverbial violet.  Dave deserved better.  Before I knew it I was bawling out the song at the top of my lungs, in my best attempt at an operatic tenor, waving my arms and turning from left to right in a desperate effort to rouse the crowd.  It was a bit weird and out of place, but the sentiment was heartfelt.  Dave certainly appreciated it.  To my surprise I received several compliments from members of the club.


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