Never mind Mrs Robinson’s cupcakes cast your eyes longingly over the Cobra’s steak and kidney puddings and as you study their perfectly formed domes you could be excused thinking there is something familiar about their well rounded shapes, all pert and perfect. And perhaps, if you have enquiring mind, you might consider the moulds they came out of. Now dear reader you could be ahead of me at this juncture. Are we thinking 38C here?

Initially the Press Secretary, Muggy and the Alies pin-up, Lady Pat, sat down to tackle the Cobra’s deliciously well filled hummocks and they were later joined by the Fitter and Plumber as the cholesterol levels soared into the red zone.

On an adjacent table the match sponsors, Cumbrian Properties, as ever were in a lively mood aided and abetted by the legendary Jerry Yates. Over the years work commitments have restricted Jerry’s appearances at the Vale which is unfortunate because he would have slipped seamlessly into the Alies’ world with his wit, sophistication, dress sense and intelligence. My goodness he would have pushed the Allies intellectual agenda into previously uncharted waters which might have left some of them up the creek without a paddle, if he had been around more.

The Alies cerebral activities can sometimes go on the blink or latch onto the wrong wavelength, so the return of Titanium from his missionary work in the sub-continent helped to stabilise those who were beginning to drift.

As is quite common Titanium encountered problems with Gilly as he tried to locate the premises to recharge his battery on his souped up mobility scooter with its diffuser, paddle shifters and traction control. Somehow Gilly had been delayed with his manicure at Posh Paws and then there were parking problems involving a three point turn. Welcome home Titanium, the driving must have reminded you of the roads in the Punjab.

Shagpile and the Electrician were on ground duty. What a team! As was to be expected with two such skilled operators everything went smoothly so much so that Shagpile was able to nip round to the East Terrace to collect his much needed cigarillo for a fiscal drag.

With the usual round table being pressed into service because of a large wedding party the Alies squeezed into a corner pew. Jerry, being like a number of Alies vertically challenged, admired Titanium’s built up shoes and mused what a difference they could have made if they had been around in his youth.

Big Norman was collecting names in his black book for the trip to Aspatria suggesting that the itinerary might include a diversion to explore the dark side of Workington and Cockermouth but the sophistication of an evening in Bowness on Windermere, plus the possibility of a sing along with Neil Diamond, seemed to top of the Alies wish list. Their agility and stamina for tackling anything on the dark side has alas diminished with the passing of the years.

While Big Norman was circulating, Candy Man provided a slab of lemon drizzle cake which was washed down with pints of Paradise Ale and the Historian’s Lucozade as the Alies pondered what they would need to stockpile next; donkey stones, black lead, gramophone needles, syrup of figs, before some of them were whisked away in the Electrician’s limo.