Lame to fame

I used to occasionally play pool against Margeret Thatcher's advisor on the NHS and former smackhead (and former doctor) Clive Frogatt in the Old Union pub in Cheltenham.
 
I once danced with a 20 year old Norwegian princess (Martha Louise) - at the time 2nd in line to the throne - without knowing who the young lady was. I failed to recognise her. In my defence it was a masquerade ball. Yet people who knew me recognised ME immediately.

In the mid 1990s I frequented the same techno/rave night club as a young lady who would soon marry the Crown Prince. Yet despite the two of us supposedly being in the same smallish night club on countless Friday and Saturday nights, I have no memory of ever seeing her there. That establishment did indeed put on some mindblowing parties.

I once came in third place in a yacht race, but couldn't be bothered to show up when medals were to be handed out. I intended on picking my medal up at the yacht club at a more suitable time a few days later. But it turns out that the honourary commodore of the yacht club, His Majesty King Harald (who is also father and father in law of the above mentioned young ladies) was handing out the medals on this particular occasion. It was apparently quite a formal occasion. A friend of mine was present and reported that when my name was called out and nobody appeared on stage, it was in fact rather embarrassing.

Had this all happened in Morocco or Dubai I would probably be in jail for life.
 
I forgot another one: When I was 16 I bought a motorbike. That spring I spent a lot of my time painting a boat. Whilst waiting for the strokes of paint to dry, I used to ride my motorbike on the forest trails and dirt roads around the marina. Unfortunately the King had his yacht at the same marina. On one occasion I came racing round a corner of the dirt road - that was otherwise closed for traffic - and suddenly saw the tail of the royal limousine straight in front of me. Luckily i managed to swerve away just in time and ended up in some bushes. Had I hit the car, with the King in the back seat, all hell would have broken loose. It would be on my police record. I would probably have spent my national service two years later either peeling potatos or in the coldest and most inhospitable spot along the Russian border.
 
I forgot one. I used to go out with the sister of former Gloucestershire and England cricketer David 'Sid' Lawrence. Really nice girl and we're still mates :)
 
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