The Royal Vauxhall Tavern Cross for Valour
I watch less and less Big Brother with every passing year, and this being season 8, I practically tuned in on opening night and then just read Grace Dent's TV OD at Radio Times on Mondays and Thursdays.
Grace Dent makes me giggle. I wish I could say that the way she describes what goes on in the house is spot on, but having watched about thirty minutes altogether this year I just have to trust her.
That's how I learnt that Gerry has slept with between two and three thousand people. Crikey. On Monday Grace was wondering:
And what's with the array of medals that Gerry seems to be wearing attached to his little military jacket these days? The Royal Vauxhall Tavern Cross for Valour? Who knows.
And I spluttered the water I'd just swigged across the seats at the woman in front of me in the tube. I apologised, wiped the display on my phone, then thought: is this the same Royal Vauxhall Tavern I know, the one down the road from our flat, our local, where the drag act is un-PC and the men are sweaty and dance with their tops off? The pub where Dr B. and I met over four years ago (while sweating and dancing with our tops off)?
Either Grace Dent has an extensive knowledge of all things gay, or there is another Royal Vauxhall Tavern that is rooted into the public consciousness.
Thursday 12 July 2007 at 12:12 pm
Sadly I don't think that the RVT has yet burst into the public consciousness, although it is surely just a matter of time.
No, I'm afraid the truth might be somewhat more prosaic. You see, Grace Dent is an old university friend of Dave's. And as you know, anyone who knows Dave cannot possibly be unaware of the Royal Vauxhall. It would be like being a friend of Fern Britton and not knowing what cake is.