David Parkin on the benefits of being sober, headline grabbing antics and Harrogate hotel highlights

THE upside to hosting an event is that you stay sober enough to remember what people said.

It was always my achilles heel as a journalist that I’d pick up the best stories or gossip when attending a dinner or while out for a drink with business people and then not remember it the next day.

However our Ascot in the City event last week meant I was in the ‘zone’, not drinking until later in the afternoon and circulating around the tables to make sure our guests were having a good time.

That meant I heard some interesting snippets of conversation.

At the bar, one female guest who was wearing a rather interesting vintage dress, told one of her fellow attendees that she was quids in after winning £100.

“Are you going to put it towards buying a dress from this century?” he replied.

On one of the tables the guests were deep in conversation about would be included on their ‘bucket lists” – the amazing and memorable things what they want to do before they kick the bucket.

I was about to tell them that one of mine is to fly into an exotic location in a seaplane when one lady looked wistfully and rather misty-eyed into the middle distance and declared: “I’d like to grow some carrots.”

Not being a great vegetable aficionado, I moved swiftly on to check on another table.

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ONE of the downsides of the slow and excruciating demise of newspapers is the departure of so much talent from newsrooms around the world.

Sub-editors are now an endangered species.

Despite the name, these are not editors, they are not in charge.

They are the people that check copy, make sure it is correct in terms of facts, spelling and punctuation and then add a headline to it.

They may have once been reporters, but when they opt for the job of a sub-editor they often have to accept unsociable hours and a life glued to a computer screen.

They are an interesting bunch, quirky, difficult, pernickety but very talented.

And there are very few of these people left in newspapers.

You only have to pick up any copy of a regional or national newspaper. You don’t have to flick more than a page or two before you find a spelling mistake or punctuation problem or a picture caption that doesn’t make sense.

Sadly this means that there are fewer people to craft amazing headlines that make you smile, cry or burst into laughter.

We all, I’m sure have our favourites.

Memorable ones include: ‘Freddie Starr Ate My Hamster’ from The Sun in the 1980s or ‘Super Caley Go Ballistic, Celtic Are Atrocious’, also from The Sun in 2000 when Caledonian Thistle beat Celtic in the Scottish Cup.

But we can’t lay exclusive claim to tabloid talent on this side of the pond.

The Americans have had their share of great headline writers, particularly at the brash and bold New York Post.

One of them was VA “Vinnie” Musetto who died recently at the age of 74.

The former New York Post editor crafted arguably the publication’s most famous headline in 1983 after a man shot the owner of a strip club in New York.

It read: “Headless Body in Topless Bar”.

Thanks for the memories Vinnie.

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AS Vinnie knew better than most, in journalism it is all about capturing the reader’s attention with your headline and first paragraph.

That’s why one Yorkshire business story really caught my eye this week.

It read: “A chef who has served canapés at a house party for Michael Parkinson and barbecued chicken for Oasis frontman Liam Gallagher has acquired the lease of a North Yorkshire restaurant.”

It makes some of my stories sound interesting.

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I WAS invited for a drink at the West Park Hotel in Harrogate last Friday evening by a man about town.

I’m glad I wore the de rigeur Harrogate outfit of sports jacket, jeans and brown shoes as the place appears to have taken over from the nearby Hotel de Vin as Divorcee Central.

Hotel de Vin used to be known as The Gold Diggers Arms. Time will tell whether the West Park assumes that monicker.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the blonde divorcees that caught my eye, it was something that happened in the gents’ toilets.

Calm down.

A man approached the washbasin next to the one I was using and declared in a rather loud voice: “What lovely soap they have here, and hand cream too.”

I stared at him in the mirror, wondering what he was on about.

As he turned on the tap, he said: “And the hot water is a perfect temperature, how lovely.”

“You sound like you are doing a review,” I commented.

“I am,” he replied, giving me a withering look.

With that he turned on his heel and strode out of the toilets.

As I emerged a few moments later there he was standing in the corridor. It looked like he was frisking a flower arrangement.

As I walked past I could hear him tutting and saying to himself: “What a disappointment, artificial.”

Have a great weekend