Faire la feta

We seemed to be having difficulty getting into the club last night after the work Christmas party. After protracted discussions, in which I played no part, I couldn’t understand why the bouncer took us around the back, let us in the fire exit and took the entry fee from us in cash. The (awful) Greek music to which everyone seemed to know the words and the preponderance of dark–haired girls and swarthy boys should have given the game away. A bunch of lawyers on their annual office jolly had just bribed the bouncer to crash a private party for the London Greek elite. You could not make this up.