Farm fodder

Toby Young

Ihave a word of advice for any men out there thinking of getting married: don't go to Verbier, With the exception of the Playboy Mansion, I can't think of a better advert for the single life than the exclusive Swiss ski resort. It may not be snowing much at the moment, but the atmosphere is so thick with hormones you can barely see without your goggles. Judging from the number of Scandinavian fillies trotting in and out of the Farm Club, they obviously haven't heard about foot-and-mouth. If your idea of a good skiing holiday involves working your way through a lot of bumps at high speed, Verbier is the place for you.

I decided to go by myself for the Easter weekend. Under normal circumstances my fiancée would never have allowed this but she was in Tenerife at the time on a `girly holiday' so she didn't have much say in the matter. She had effectively handed me a Get Out of Jail Free card and I intended to use it. I called my friend Hutton Swinglehurst who has a chalet out there and he said that provided I was prepared to sleep on the sofa in his living-room I was welcome. He added that I'd picked a good time to come because he'd arranged to have dinner with 16 Swedish girls on Saturday night. Oh, oh, I thought. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all!

I arrived late on Friday, just in time for a quick sortie to the Farm.

'Where's Caroline?' asked Stefano, the Italian doorman. He'd taken a shine to her last time we were there.

'In Tenerife,' I said.

'You chose the right weekend to leave her at home,' he chuckled.

'It's a turkey shoot in there.'

likes!

Stefano was right. The place was full of ski bunnies, all leaping about with abandon now that spring was finally in the air. Luckily. I don't drink so I didn't have too much difficulty controlling myself, but I did drag a gorgeous Swedish girl called Anneka on to the dance floor. I couldn't resist. She was blonde, 28 and looked like a Bond girl. 'She's the hottest girl here,' Huttie announced, telling me that she was his 'number one target' for the evening. 'Thank God, she's only dancing with you.'

I'm happy to report that when Huttie asked her to dance she said she was 'too tired'.

The following night Huttie and I rendezvoused at a pizzeria called Al Capone to have dinner with the 16 Scandies. Needless to say, only about half that number turned up, but one of them was the lovely Anneka so I wasn't disappointed. I ended up sitting next to her and we fell into a discussion about sleeping arrangements. I told her that while I effectively had a room to myself I was under strict orders to swap beds with Huttie if he 'got lucky'. This wasn't as straightforward as it sounded because Huttie was sharing a room with someone called Charlie Kimmins and if he 'got lucky' I wouldn't be able to sleep in Huttie's bed either. In that instance, I'd have to kip down in the corridor.

'But what if you get lucky,' asked Anneka, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Suddenly, a slight hush fell over the table. Huttie had overheard Anneka's question and had stopped talking to see how I'd respond. Would I remain true to my fiancee in Tenerife?

'I can't get lucky.' I explained slowly. 'I'm engaged.'

I stared at Anneka to see if the significance of this remark had sunk in.

'But surely,' she said, 'gay people can get lucky too?'

Huttie immediately exploded with laughter.

'That's priceless,' he said. 'That's absolutely priceless. That's made my weekend, that has.'

Huttie spent the remainder of the night repeating this story to anyone who'd listen. In his view, one of things that made it so funny was that I'd obviously been under the

impression that Anneka fancied me like mad when, in fact, she evidently thought I was gay! I vehemently disagreed with this. I insisted that it was a purely verbal misunderstanding and that when she'd discovered the truth she looked crestfallen. Naturally, almost everyone chose to believe Huttie's analysis rather than mine.

Later that night in the Farm I tried to persuade Anneka to have one last dance with me. 'We gays are quite good at dancing,' I pointed out. But I was too late. She'd already promised to dance with Huttie.