Devotion to duty doesn’t come much higher. There were the high-living
folk from consumer hi-tech PR shop Bite, at a Soho club press party for
software client Oracle, when a familiar chap was seen loping towards the
From the stylish threads, melon-sized grin and thirteen-year-olds
hanging round his ankles, it could only be one man - say, it and scream,
Robbie, of the late, much-wept over Take That.
Some people, faced with the option of diluting a dance floor of computer
hacks with such a tasty chap, might have brushed aside client-
obligations and hauled him inside. But Bite women are made of stronger
stuff. They merely advised him it was a private party, watched as he
walked into the neighbouring club, and returned to the anoraks.
Or rather, account manager Lisa Francis tells me, most of them did. She
reveals: ‘I must admit that two of my colleagues did run after them. I
wasn’t really interested. I prefer Gary.’