Ben was an ex-fleet street journo who moved to Lamma in the days we used to sit boozing in mainstreet or at the back of the Capital. . For some reason, either because "Frank the Thump" wouldn't allow Ben to sit with us, or because he'd fallen out with Gerrard from the "Capitol Restaurant", Ben carted his own table down from his house and set it up behind the police report centre where he used to hold court and you needed a special invite to join him at his "private table". He was poking fun at "Frank the Thump" with the 'private invite' bit as Frank always insisted you ask if you could join any table he was sitting at before sitting down.

Anyway, the inevitable happened, Seb and I were walking between bars drunk in the early hours when we spyed Ben's table. About 45 minutes later we'd managed to perch it on top of the big rock in the sea outside the Island Bar and set it up with a table cloth a wine bottle and a glass.

It looked quite surealistic out there on its own and puzzled the commuters no end the next morning. We left it there for a week while Ben tried in vain to talk someone into reteiving it for him.

A week later we made it mysteriously reappear in its original position still laid out nicely.