What kind of dinner parties do you go to, Baroness?/January 21st 2011

Richie - In order to test the odious Baroness Warsi's theories about British dinner table natter, old Wob Boberts donned a hijab and black cloak-cum-dress (appropriated from our very own Reverand Pritchard's collection of clergical haute couture) and gatecrashed a few local dinner parties, passing myself off as an Afghani asylum-seeker named Brenda from Milton Keynes. First stop was Arthur Groat's annual "we hates veg" dinner for local farm labourers but all chat was replaced by grunts and burps as ten hefty navvies munched their way through pigs trotters and boiled sheep intestines. Next up was Dr Singh's oriental family finger buffet but this was cut short when the Doc's brother cornered me and interfered with my falsies. Last, I managed to sneak in to a champagne knees-up organised by the local Tory coven and I must say I was shocked by the foaming vitriol directed at the "outsiders" who they said were distorting cherished Brit values - namely the Cameroons and the pinko LibDems!