Phil was famous (or infamous) for his dinner parties, many, many courses, huge deserts and weird dining rules (anyone remember Trenchard's rules). This particular event was a small affair, just Ruth, myself and Barney. We were getting to the end of the main courses when Phil asked to to be excused and went upstairs, after half an hour had passed and he had not yet returned, we went looking. Phil was found lying on the bathroom floor, fully consious and cheerful, but unable to move. What had happened was that he had been cooking all day for the meal and had been refreshing himself with the the very dangerous Smirnoff Blue Label and coke, these had finally caught up with him and rendered him immobile. After a bit of effort, Barney and myself got him upright and put him to bed, he told us there was a pudding but we couldn't find it (turned out later to have been dough balls which were yet to be cooked), we finished the evening off with Match of the Day and locked up behind us, I believe that Phil never drank Blue Label again after that night.